“I expect her every moment, for it is after eight o’clock, though it is very possible she may not be in before ten, but you do as I bid you,” replied Elfie. And as she was fully recognized as commanding officer in the absence of Erminie, her orders were immediately obeyed. The cloth was no sooner spread than Erminie’s ring was heard and answered. Erminie lingered at the hall door for a moment, trying to persuade Dr. Sales, who had attended her home, to come in and rest himself before going farther. But the clergyman pleaded an engagement and bade her good night. And Erminie came into the library. “Well, upon my word! But I suppose angels can do without food or sleep, and that is the secret of your living and working without either,” exclaimed Elfie, as she arose and made Erminie sit in the easy chair and rest herself, while she untied and removed her bonnet, and unpinned and took off her shawl. Erminie, instead of answering, burst into tears, and wept softly behind her pocket handkerchief. “Here, Catherine, take Miss Rosenthal’s bonnet and shawl up stairs, and put them away. And you needn’t come in again until I ring,” said Elfie handing the articles named to the parlor maid, who was still engaged in arranging the table. The girl took the things and left the room. And then Elfie caressing Erminie, inquired: “Where have you been?” “To the Provost Marshal’s office, to lay before him certain information regarding poor Alberta. Dr. Sales said that I must do it, and took me there,” replied Erminie, weeping. “But what did the Provost Marshal say or do to set you grieving so?” demanded Elfie. “Oh, nothing at all. He put me upon my oath, and then took down my statement regarding poor Alberta’s visit here and to the President’s house, and all that happened there,” replied Erminie, remembering that Elfie knew nothing about the episode of the concealed revolver. “And what then?” “The Provost Marshal thanked me for the information given, and requested me not to speak of it to others. So, Elfie dear, let us drop the subject, if you please.” “But how will the Provost Marshal act upon your information?” “I do not know. They never tell anything. They hear all that they can, but they tell nothing. It is not their business to do so.” “Then I don’t see what there was in the interview to distress you so much,” said Elfie, rising and touching the bell. “Oh, my dear, it is this. Though I have done only my duty—a most painful duty to me—I feel like an informer and a spy. Oh, Elfie, this awful war, that upsets not only all material but all moral life!” wept Erminie.