“Don’t make a noise over the breakfast table, you dear old boy—it is impolite; and don’t destroy the paper before other people have read it,—it is selfish. But tell me like a good boy, what’s the row?” “She is half right. Erminie, my dear, I beg your pardon; but that girl of mine is enough to drive any sane man mad! Ethel, take that and read it,” said the major, extending the paper to the lieutenant and pointing out the offensive paragraph. It was headed— A GIRL DRAFTED BY MISTAKE AND INSISTING ON SERVING. And it was a full account of Elfie’s visit to the Provost Marshal’s office and all that took place in her interview with the officers there. “There!” said the major, when Ethel had finished reading—“what do you think of that? Oh, I’ll take her across to St. Elizabeth’s and shut her up in the lunatic asylum!” “No you won’t, pap! People can’t do that with sane women in this country! Now do be just! that’s a nice old boy! Could _I_ help being drafted?” “It was some infernal mistake! I beg your pardon, Erminie, my dear. It was some mistake. But you could have helped reporting, you exasperating——” —“As if I _would_ have helped reporting, pap? No! I leave _that_ sort of poltroonery to the men!” said Elfie. The major fairly shook with wrath. “Be consoled, pap, they wouldn’t have me, you know. They said I didn’t belong to a good fighting family!” said Elfie. The major started up from the breakfast table, and left the room in hot anger. The breakfast party looked dismayed. Erminie arose and threw her arms around the perverse girl’s neck, and pleaded with her. “Elfie! dear Elfie, go after him. Ask his forgiveness. Make friends with your father!” “Leave me alone, Minie! I know my dear, old governor; he’ll soon be all right!” said Elfie. But the dear, old governor did not get over his vexation as soon as Elfie expected. He kept his little daughter at a distance for some days. “Come, pap,” she said to him one morning, “let’s compromise! I will promise you ‘never to do so more,’ if you will buy me a substitute!” But the indignant major made her no reply. Elfie persisted in her proposal with all the perseverance of the Beast, who daily for a year asked Beauty to marry him. “Come, pap! buy me a substitute and I’ll promise you not to run away in boy’s clothes, and ’list!” But still the old man did not deign to answer. All this time, also, Elfie was, as she always had been, in all substantial services a most devoted daughter to her father. She attended to his room, to put all those little finishing touches to its comfort that no one but herself could effect. She kept his clothes in perfect order. She had one of his half dozen pairs of slippers always just where he wanted them. His pipe was always at hand. His pitcher of iced lemonade was never empty. Nothing that tended to his comfort was wanting. But still the major was inexorable.