“Thank you, madam.” Andy was surprised how weak his voice was. He tried to say more, but the words would not come, and he felt compelled to close his eyes again. Later in the day he managed to swallow a little nourishment, and from that time on he grew stronger, although his progress was so slow that it was scarcely perceptible. “I suppose you wonder how we know your name,” said the daughter, who was assisting her mother in caring for Andy. “I saw it written on a number of letters which were in your pocket. My name is Viola Lemming. Mamma and I and my younger sister Flossie are living here, for papa is off to the war.” “Your father is a Union man, I suppose?” said Andy. “Yes. We are all Unionists around here. But you mustn’t mind that. We will take good care of you.” “You are more than kind. Will you tell me what happened after I was shot?” “There is not much to tell. You fell back into the water and two of the soldiers fished you out and brought you here, for the nearest hospital service is five miles away.” “And did they catch my horse?” “No. They tried to stop the flatboat, but it got away in the darkness, and what became of it and the horse none of the men know.” “I hope he got back into Virginia,” said Andy, with a little sigh; and then Mrs. Lemming came in and said it would be best for him to remain quiet. Day after day went by and Andy remained on the couch. The Lemmings were as kind and patient with him as though they were his best friends, and he could not help but reach the conclusion that there were other good people on the side of the North besides the Rockfords. Viola, especially, did all she possibly could for his comfort, and one day he told her about his home and his sister Grace. “I would like to meet her,” said Viola Lemming. “Who knows but that we will when this cruel war is over.” “That when will prove a long one, I am afraid,” answered the young Confederate. “We are bound to fight to the last, and I presume folks up North think the same way.” Once or twice, when Andy was well enough to be moved, it was suggested by the surgeon who visited him that he be taken to the regular army quarters. The youth shuddered at this, knowing he would not receive half the care he was now getting. “If you will have me, I will stay here, Mrs. Lemming,” he said. “I know I am a good deal of a burden, but some day I and my family will try to make it up to you.” “I shall be glad to have you remain,” said the lady of the house. “But you must give me one promise--that you will not try to escape so long as the Union authorities leave you in our care?” “I’ll promise that,” answered the young Confederate, seriously. “You have my word of honor as a Virginian.” CHAPTER XV OFF FOR THE PENINSULA