“You wish to search these rooms?” said Dorothy, pleasantly. “Don’t hesitate to do so. Our pastor is taking his Christmas tea with us, also a few other friends, and that is why I cannot go with you over the house—unless they will excuse me. Let’s go anyhow, Anne,” she added, turning quickly to her friend. “I’ve told you it would be useless, however,” she went on. “Mr. Tayloe left here five hours ago; but of course you must go through the house, and we might show you some nooks and corners Sallie Tom would possibly leave out.” The two men glanced at each other, then accepted Dorothy’s offer with thanks. It would certainly do no harm to have two pretty girls go along. They looked around the comfortable, homelike rooms a little longingly; how cosy everything was, and how good that coffee smelt! One of them involuntarily sniffed it and Mrs. Tayloe saw it, and her hospitable soul forgot for a moment they were soldiers hunting for her boy. They were some other mother’s boys, and she came forward in her sweet, gracious way, full of such quiet dignity that the rudest boor would have felt its power. “It is very cold,” she said, interrupting them as they stood talking together at the door; “will not you gentlemen have a cup of coffee?” The Lieutenant and his Sergeant drew back a little, as if they had not heard aright. They had read a great deal about Southern hospitality, but it quite upset them to be offered it under such circumstances. Sallie Tom had drawn Dorothy aside, and was saying something in an undertone; but the latter had heard Mrs. Tayloe’s question, and she answered it for them. “Of course they will,” she broke in. “I’m sure they are hungry and thirsty too, and I know they will have some supper after we get through the search; but we must do that first. Sallie Tom will lead the way, the gentlemen will follow, and Anne and I will bring up the rear.”