"You are anxious to restore him to his chances of promotion down yonder; yet I fancied I saw no especial love for him in your eyes, heh? Maybe you'd promote him to the front rank, as was done with Uriah,--what d' ye say, Paul?" He went on laughing, without waiting for an answer. "As was done with Uriah?" Pah, what folly was this? He took out his handkerchief, wiping his face and neck; he felt cold and damp,--from weakness, it might be. "You will tell that man Gurney, Sam," beckoning to the orderly who was loitering near, "that an order for his exchange is made out, when he is able to avail himself of it." "Won't you see him yerself, Doctor?" insinuated Sam. "He's a weak critter, an' 'll be monstrous thankful, I'm thinkin'." Blecker shook his head and turned off, waiting for Mrs. Sheppard. She was on the sidewalk, laying down the law to the chaplain, who, with his gilt-banded cap, looked amazingly like a footman. The lady's tones had the Kentucky, loud, mellow ring; her foot tapped, and her nervous fingers emphasized the words against her palm. "Ill-bred," thought the young man; but he bowed, smiling suavely. "If I have been derelict in duty, Madam, I will be judged by a Higher Power." "But it's my way, young Sir, to go to the root of the matter, when I see things rotting,--be it a potato-field or a church. We're plain-tongued in my State. And I think the Higher Power needs a mouth-piece just now." And something nobler of mien than good-breeding gave to Sarah Sheppard's earnest, pursy little figure meaning just then, before which the flimsy student of the Thirty-Nine Articles stood silent.