“Well, I will tell you just what to do then,” returned the girl gravely and with deep meaning. Everybody in the room, with the exception of Lieutenant Foray, was now listening intently. “Start right out this very night,” said the girl, “and don’t stop till you get to where my real friends are, lying in trenches and ditches and earth-works between us and the Yankee guns.” “But really, Miss Mitford,” began one, his face flushing at her severe rebuke, “you don’t absolutely mean that.” “So far as we are concerned,” said one of the messengers, including his companions with a sweep of his hand, “we’d like nothing better, but they won’t let us go, and——” “I know they won’t,” said Caroline, “but so far as you two gentlemen are concerned, I really mean it. Go and fight the Yankees a few days and lie in ditches a few nights until those uniforms you’ve got on look as if they might have been of some use to somebody. If you are so mighty anxious to do something for me, that is what you can do. It is the only thing I want, it is the only thing anybody wants.” “Messenger here!” cried Lieutenant Foray as the two young officers, humiliated beyond expression by the taunts of the impudent young maiden, backed away and finally managed to make an ungraceful exit through the open door, followed by the titters of the messengers, who took advantage of the presence of the young girl to indulge in this grave breach of discipline. “Messenger!” cried Foray impatiently. “Here, sir,” came the answer. “Commissary General’s office!” was the injunction with which Foray handed the man the telegram. He looked up at the same time, and with a great start of surprise caught sight of Caroline at the far end of the long room. “Lieutenant Foray,” began the girl. “I beg your pardon, Miss Mitford,” said the operator, scrambling to his feet and making a frantic effort to get into his coat. “I heard some one come in, but I was busy with an important message and didn’t appreciate that——” “No, never mind, don’t put on your coat,” said Caroline. “I came on business, and——” “You want to send a telegram?” asked the Lieutenant. “Yes.” “I am afraid we can’t do anything for you here, Miss Mitford, this is the War Department Official Telegraph Office, you know.” “Yes, I know,” said Caroline, “but it is the only way to send it where I want it to go, and I——” At that moment the clicking of a key called Lieutenant Foray away. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping quickly to his table. Miss Mitford, who had never before been in a telegraph office, was very much mystified by the peremptory manner in which the officer had cut her short, but she had nothing to do but wait. Presently the message was transcribed, another messenger was called. “Over to the Department, quick as you can go. They are waiting for it,” said Foray. “Now, what was it you wanted me to do, Miss Mitford?” “Just to—to send a telegram,” faltered Caroline. “It’s private business, is it not?” said Foray.