“Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant Foray,” said Caroline calmly, “there is no need of your feeling sorry, because it hasn’t occurred, beside that, it is not going to occur. When it does, you can go around being sorry all you like. Have you the faintest idea that I am going to let him take my telegram away with him and show it to the man? Do you suppose——” She was too indignant to finish her sentence and old Martha valiantly entered the fray. “No, suh,” she cried, in her deepest and most indignant voice. “You all ain’t gwine to do it, you kin be right suah you ain’t.” “But what can I do?” persisted Foray, greatly distressed. “You can hand it back to me, that’s what you can do.” “Yes, suh, dat’s de vehy best thing you kin do,” said old Martha stoutly, “an’ de soonah you do it de quickah it’ll be done—Ah kin tel you dat right now, suh.” “But this man has come here with orders for me to——” began Foray, endeavouring to explain. He realised that there was some mistake somewhere. The girl’s message had nothing whatever to do with military matters, and he quite understood that she would not want this communication read by every Tom, Dick, or Harry in the Secret Service Department. Beside all this, as she stood before him, her face flushed with emotion, she was a sufficiently pretty, a sufficiently pleading figure to make him most anxious and most willing to help her. In addition, the portly figure of old Martha, whose cheeks doubtless would have been flushed with the same feeling had they not been so black, were more than disconcerting. “This man,” said Caroline, shaking her finger at helpless Private Eddinger, who also found his position most unpleasant, “can go straight back where he came from and report to Mr. Arrelsford that he could not carry out his orders. That’s what he can do.” Martha, now thoroughly aroused to a sense of the role she was to play, turned and confronted the abashed private. “Jes’ let him try to tek it. Let him tek it if he wants it so pow’ful bad! Jes let de othah one dere gib it to him—an’ den see him try an’ git out thu dis yeah do’ wid it! Ah wants to see him go by,” she said. “Ah’m jes waitin’ fur de sight ob him gittin’ pas’ dis do’. Dat’s what Ah’s waitin’ fo’. Ah’d lak to know what dey s’pose it was Ah comed around yeah fo’ anyway—dese men wid dese ordahs afussin’ an’——” “Miss Mitford,” said Foray earnestly, “if I were to give this despatch back to you it would get me in a heap of trouble.” “What kind of trouble?” asked Caroline dubiously. “I might be put in prison, I might be shot.” “Do you mean that they would——” “Sure to do one thing or another.” “Just for giving it back to me when it is my message?” “Just for that.” “Then you will have to keep it, I suppose,” said Caroline faltering. “Thank you, Miss Mitford.”