On the ridge, officers riding back and forth in the bright moonlight marked positions and looked speculatively across at that other parallel ridge, which takes its name from the Evergreen Cemetery near one end. Far to the north, where the heavy cannonading had been, ambulances traveled the fields, guided by a whimper or a groan of pain. The greatest general of all, whom Private Christy had promised Emmeline she might see, rode about on his white horse studying the victory won, planning fresh victory for to-morrow. Thus, rapidly enough, the night waned. When the sun rose on July 2, the thousands of soldiers in gray stirred and woke. In the Willing kitchen the surly cook began to bake his miserable biscuit; on the porch Private Christy rose and yawned, and persuaded the cook to give him place on the stove for his coffee-pot. All about in the fields and woods the thousands rose and prepared their simple breakfast. Emmeline slept and slept. Five o'clock yesterday had found her awake and dressed; but to-day five o'clock passed, then six, then seven, then eight. Along the lines of battle all was peace; it was almost as quiet as on any other summer morning. Cannon were moved without noise under cover of the woodland, as if each great army wished to hide from the other. Emmeline, waking, lay still and stretched out her arms. Where was she? Why was she still dressed? How had she got to bed? She sat up and looked out of the window. Then it was not a dream, after all! Round her were still the thousands of Confederate soldiers; below her on the porch she heard Private Christy's voice. "'Bout time to begin, ain't it?" he queried. A voice answered that it had been time long ago. Emmeline saw the sun high in the sky; she smoothed her dress and braided her hair, and ran down the steps. There was no battle; it was the middle of the morning, and still there was no battle. Surely she could go home! In the kitchen the surly cook gave her one of his soggy biscuits. It was nine o'clock, according to the stubby hands of Grandmother Willing's clock, which ticked on the mantel-shelf. Emmeline's tall friend was on the porch. "Good-morning, Emmyline!" said he cheerfully. Emmeline's war code, which she remembered clearly this morning, did not permit her to say good-morning to the enemy. "There is no battle," she announced. "I want to go home." "Oh, but you can't do that!" "I must!" Emmeline looked about her. Still all was peaceful. "Just up that road! I walked almost all the way yesterday." Private Christy shook his head. "No, Emmyline. 'Twouldn't do." "You are an enemy of my country!" cried Emmeline. "You have no right to keep me! I am going home!" When Emmeline reached the gate, Private Christy called to her. "Come back, sissy!" he said. Emmeline obeyed, weeping.