Dinner over, we went out on the veranda, as usual, and General Stuart dropped into a chair beside me. “I really thought you rather liked Dan Grey, but it seems I was mistaken. And you really don’t want to see him? Sad--I must tell him and condole with him.” I tried to bury myself in a book I was reading, and to pay no attention to him. A miserable old book it was--Children of the Abbey, or something like it--that I had picked up somewhere at Mr. Bradford’s. Hereafter, if I write “Aunt Sally’s” instead of Mr. Bradford’s, please understand that one and the same place is meant. Aunt Sally was Mr. Bradford’s wife, and I reckon the first term best describes the place. “You wouldn’t really rather have Dan Grey sitting here in this chair beside you than me?” continued my tease. I lifted to him eyes wet with vexation and longing. “I’ll make you smile now!” he said. “_Do_ you want to see Dan?” “Yes, I do. I want to see him dreadfully, but I am not going to tell you so again.” “You will if I command you to, won’t you? If you are in the cavalry I am your superior officer, you know. I can even make Dan mind what I say, can’t I? If you are refractory, I can command Dan to bring you to terms.” “I’d like to see Dan do it! You may be commander-in-chief of the cavalry, but you aren’t commander-in-chief of me--you or Dan either.” “It seems not,” he commented meekly. “You are the most insubordinate little rebel I ever saw. I have a great mind to court-martial you--no, I believe I’ll send for Dan and let him do it.” He called a courier, and wrote a despatch in regular form, ordering Major Dan Grey to report at once to General Stuart. Then he added a little private note to Dan which had for a postscript: “Sweet Nellie is by my side.” “That will bring him in a hurry!” laughed Stuart. The courier, not knowing but that the fate of the Confederacy depended upon that despatch, put spurs to his horse, galloped down the road and out of sight. I suppose he ran his horse all the way, and that Dan ran his all the way back, for before General Stuart left the veranda Dan galloped into the yard. “I’ll get the first kiss!” said General Stuart, still teasingly. He leaped from the porch and ran across the yard, I tearing after him. I caught up and passed him, and looking back at him from Dan’s arms, into which I had stumbled, breathless and panting, I laughed out: “I can beat the Yankees getting out of your way!” Perhaps this race and General Stuart’s love of teasing may seem undignified conduct for the chief of the Southern cavalry, but it is history and it is fun, and those who knew him did not fail in respect to Stuart. Many of us loved the ground he walked on. His boyish spirits and his genial, sunny temperament helped to make him the idol of the cavalry and the inspiration of his soldiers, and kept heart in them no matter what happened.