They came with a rush; in the lead an officer, a naked saber in his fist, followed by a squad of grim-faced troopers, each with his carbine cocked and ready for discharge. Yet, as suddenly as they had come, they halted now at the sight of a little lady, seated at table, eating berries, as calmly as though the dogs of war had never even growled. A wondering silence followed, till broken by a piping voice, in grave but courteous reproof: "I--I don't think you are very polite." The officer in command was forced to smile. "I'm sorry, my dear," he apologized; "but am afraid, this time, I can't quite help it." He glanced at the door of the adjoining room and turned to his waiting men, though speaking in an undertone: "He's in there, I guess. Don't fire if you can help it--on account of the baby. Now then! Steady, boys! Advance!" He led the way, six troopers following, while the rest remained behind to guard the cabin's open door. Virgie slowly turned her head, with eyes that watched the officer's every move; then presently she called: "Hey, there! That's _my_ room--an' don't you-all bother any of my things, either!" This one command, at least, was implicitly obeyed, for in a moment the disappointed squad returned. The carbine butts were grounded; the troopers stood at orderly attention, while their officer stepped toward the table. "What's your name, little monkey?" Virgie raised her eyes in swift reproach. "I don't like to be called a monkey. It--it isn't respectful." The Union soldier laughed. "O-ho! I see." He touched his hat and made her a sweeping bow. "A thousand pardons, Mademoiselle." He shot his sword into its scabbard, and laughed again. "Might I inquire as to what you are called by your--er--justly respectful relatives and friends?" "Virgie," she answered simply. "Ah," he approved, "and a very pretty name! Virgie what?" "My whole name is Miss Virginia Houston Gary." The soldier started, glanced at his troopers, then back to the child again: "Is Herbert Cary your father?" He waited for her answer, and got it, straight from a baby's shoulder: "_Mister_ Herbert Cary is--yes, sir." The enemy smiled and made her another bow. "I stand corrected. Where is your father now?" Virgie hesitated. "I--I don't know." The voice of her inquisitor took on a sterner tone: "Is he here?--hiding somewhere? Tell me!" Her little heart was pounding, horribly, and the hot blood came into her cheeks; but she looked him squarely in the face, and lied--for General Lee: "No, sir. Daddy _was_ here--but he's gone away." The enemy was looking at her, intently, and his handsome, piercing eyes, grew most uncomfortable. She hung for an instant between success and sobbing failure, till a bubble from Mother Eve rose up in her youthful blood and burst into a spray of perfect feminine deceit. She did not try to add to her simple statement, but began to eat her berries, calmly, as though the subject were completely closed.