“Yes, it will, mother. The President,—I just love him,—told me they needed a man who understood telegraphing and who was of high enough rank to take charge of the service. As you know, most of the telegraph operators are privates, and Captain Thorne is an expert. Since he’s been here in Richmond he’s helped them in the telegraph office often. Lieutenant Foray told me so.” Mrs. Varney rose and moved away. Edith followed her. “Now, mamma!” she exclaimed; “I feel you are going to scold me, and you must not, because it’s all fixed and the commission will be sent over here in a few minutes—just as soon as it can be made out—and when it comes I am going to give it to him myself.” Mrs. Varney moved over toward the table and lifted a piece of paper, evidently a note. “He is coming this evening,” she said. “How do you know?” asked her daughter. “Well, for one thing,” said her mother, “I can remember very few evenings when he hasn’t been here since he was able to walk out of the hospital.” “Mamma!” “And for another thing, this note came about half an hour ago.” “Is it for me?” “For me, my dear, else I shouldn’t have opened it. You can read it, if you like.” “Has it been here all this time?” exclaimed Edith jealously. “All this time. You will see what he says. This will be his last call; he has his orders to leave.” “Why, it’s too ridiculous!” said the girl; “just as if the commission from the President wouldn’t supersede everything else. It puts him at the head of the Telegraph Service. He will be in command of the Department. He says it is a good-bye call, does he?” She looked at the note again and laughed, “All the better, it will be that much more of a surprise. Now, mamma, don’t you breathe a word about it, I want to tell him myself.” “But, Edith dear—I am sorry to criticise you—but I don’t at all approve of your going to the President about this. It doesn’t seem quite the proper thing for a young lady to interest herself so far——” “But listen, mamma,” and as she spoke the light went out of Miss Edith’s face at her mother’s grave and somewhat reproving aspect. “I couldn’t go to the War Department people. Mr. Arrelsford is there in one of the offices, and ever since I—I refused him, you know how he has treated me! If I had applied for anything there, it would have been refused at once, and he would have got them to order Captain Thorne away right off. I know he would—why, that is where his orders came from!” “But, my dear——” “That is where they came from. Isn’t it lucky I got that commission to-day. There’s the bell; I wonder who it can be?” She stopped and listened while the door opened and Jonas, the butler, entered. “Is it Captain Thorne?” asked Edith eagerly. “No, ma’am.” “Oh!” “It’s another offisuh, ma’am. He says he’s fum de President an’ he’s got to see Miss Edith pussonally.” Jonas extended a card which, as he spoke, Edith took and glanced at indifferently. “Lieutenant Maxwell,” she read.