“Den we got to git some mo’. Dey says dey’s all used up, an’ two mo’ trains jes’ come in crowded full o’ wounded sojahs—an’ mos’ all ob ’em dreffeul bad!” “Is Miss Kittridge here yet, Martha?” “Yas’m, Ah jes’ seed her goin’ thu de hall into de libr’y.” “Ask her if they have anything to send. Even if it’s only a little let them have it. What they need most is bandages. There are some in Howard’s room, too. Give them half of what you find there. I think what we have left will last long enough to—to——” “Yas’m,” said old Martha, sniffing. “Ah’m a-gwine. Does you want to see de man?” “Yes, send him in,” said Mrs. Varney. There was a light tap on the door after Martha went out. “Come in,” said the mistress of the house, and there entered to her a battered and dilapidated specimen of young humanity, his arm in a sling. “My poor man!” exclaimed Mrs. Varney. “Sit down.” “Thank you, ma’am.” “Martha,” she called to the old woman, who paused at the door on her way to the stairs, “can’t you get something to eat and drink for this gentleman?” “Well, the pantry ain’t obahflowin’, as you know, Mrs. Varney. But Ah reckon Ah might fin’ a glass o’ milk ef Ah jes’ had to.” “All our wine has gone long ago,” said Mrs. Varney to the soldier, “but if a glass of milk——” “I haven’t seen a glass of milk for three years, ma’am,” answered the man, smiling; “it would taste like nectar.” “Martha will set it for you in the dining-room while you are waiting. What hospital did you come from, by the way?” “The Winder, ma’am.” “And is it full?” “They are laying them on blankets on the floor. You can hardly step for wounded men.” “I suppose you need everything?” “Everything, but especially bandages.” “Have you been over to St. Paul’s Church? The ladies are working there to-night.” “Yes, ma’am, I’ve been over there, but they’re not working for the hospital; they’re making sand-bags for fortifications.” “And where are you from?” “I’m a Louisiana Tiger, ma’am,” answered the man proudly. “You don’t look much like it now,” said the woman, smiling. “No, I guess the lamb is more like me now, but just wait until I get well enough to go to the front again,” admitted the soldier cheerfully. At this moment one of the ladies who had been working in the other room came in carrying a small packet of bandages done up in a coarse brown paper. “Oh, Miss Kittridge,” said Mrs. Varney, “here is the gentleman who——” Miss Kittridge was a very business-like person. “This is every scrap we have,” she said, handing the soldier the parcel with a little bow. “If you will come back in an hour or two, perhaps we shall have more for you.” “Thank you, ladies, and God bless you. I don’t know what our poor fellows in the hospitals would do if it weren’t for you.” “Don’t forget your milk in the dining-room,” said Mrs. Varney. “I’m not likely to, ma’am,” returned the soldier, as, in spite of his wounded arm, he bowed gracefully to the women.