"It can't be true," wailed Jeanne. "Kentucky and Tennessee both taken from us when we fought so hard to get them? Surely it is not true!" "But it is," asserted Bob positively. "And that is not the greatest news: General Lee has not only driven McClellan from in front of Richmond, but he has invaded Maryland and we expect to hear at any time that Washington has fallen into our hands." "Is it true?" asked Jeanne again turning so pale that Bob thought she was going to faint. "Here, drink this!" Bob tipped up her canteen of water to Jeanne's lips. "I did not know that Yankees cared so much for such things." "Cared for such things," echoed Jeanne indignantly. "Of course we care. How could any one hear that the Capital is menaced and not care? But the traitors will never succeed in taking it. Never! I know our people. They will defend it with their lives, and drive the treacherous miscreants, who would dare profane by their touch, back to where they belong." "We are not traitors," flashed Bob. "We have a right to secede if we want to. The Capital belongs as much to us as it does to you, anyway." "It doesn't," cried Jeanne angrily. "It belongs to the North because the North is trying to uphold the Government left to us by our great and good Washington." "Your great and good Washington," sneered Bob. "Washington belonged to us, I'd have you know. He was a Virginian, and let me tell you, that if it hadn't been for Southerners there never would have been any United States anyway." "There would too," flashed back Jeanne. "My great-grandfather fought in the Revolution, and there were plenty who fought that were not Southerners." "And who led them, pray?" demanded Bob. "Why, George Washington, a Southerner. Who wrote the Declaration of Independence? Thomas Jefferson, a Southerner. Who got up the Constitution? Why James Madison, a Southerner. And mind you, Jeanne Vance, this country couldn't be run at first except by Southerners. Out of the first five presidents, four were Southerners." "Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe," and Jeanne counted them on her fingers. "John Adams was a Massachusetts man." "Phew!" and Bob's lips curled scornfully. "And the people were so sick of him that they only let him stay in four years. They were glad enough to get back to us. I am sure that I don't wonder. I don't see how they could stand a New Englander." "I'm afraid that you'll have to," said Jeanne, wrathfully. "They are the best people in the world. One of them is worth a dozen Southerners." "He isn't," blazed Bob. "He----" "Why, what does this mean?" cried a voice from without the tent. "Bob, is that the way you treat a guest? I am surprised." "It's dad!" exclaimed Bob, rapidly untying the flap of the tent. "Come in."