“But our information is obtained for nothing from devoted friends, who risk their lives to keep us posted as to the movements of the enemy, and yours, when you get any, is purchased at high prices from mercenaries, who sleep when they should watch, and invent fictions when they should chronicle truths.” “But Major Rosenthal! Did you say Major Rosenthal?” pursued Elfie, still harping on Justin. “Yes. He was promoted to a majority for gallantry in the field.” “And he is in command of his regiment?” “I told you so.” “But how is that?” “In the very last battle in which his regiment was engaged the colonel was dangerously wounded, the lieutenant colonel was taken prisoner, and the senior major killed; so that the command of the regiment devolved on Major Rosenthal. His regiment was soon after ordered to W. And he is now crossing the valley. Observe how early and how accurate is our information. Now to get back to Albert Goldsborough. With Scott’s Nine Hundred in Montgomery and Rosenthal’s cavalry in Frederick, your lover, when he crossed the river for your sake rushed recklessly between two fires.” “I wish to Heaven the fires had closed upon him and made an end of him and his horse-thieves then and there!” bitterly exclaimed Elfie. “You don’t! If you ever loved him, you love him still. If you ever loved him, you love him more than ever for the perils he has braved for your sake,” said Alberta, positively. “I tell you—” passionately began Elfie; but she was interrupted by a low rap at the door. “Come in,” said Alberta. And the door opened and a young guerrilla entered, bringing in one hand a kettle of hot water, which he sat down on the hearth before the fire, and holding in the other hand a paper parcel. “That is my good boy,” said Alberta, as she stirred the fire to make it burn and keep the kettle hot—“that is my good boy! But, Gill, what shall we do for tea? Use saffron root again?” “No, ma’am! See here. Captain Mutchison sent you this with his compliments,” said the young man whom Alberta called Gill, handing over the paper parcel that he had held in his hand “Tea! real tea!” said Alberta, holding the parcel up to her face and gratefully inhaling its fragrance. “Oh, tell the captain I am ever so much obliged to him. Elfie, child, I have not had a cup of tea since I took one with Erminie at the parsonage. But I am very glad to have some now, for your sake as well as mine.” “I suspect that tea is a part of the spoils of our picnic,” replied Elfie. “Nothing in life more likely. Now do you know that circumstance actually adds piquancy to its flavor!” exclaimed Alberta, as she went to an old glass cupboard in a corner of the room and took from it a small tin tea pot, in which she poured a portion of the tea, and afterwards filled it up with boiling water and set it on the hearth to draw.