“Just like Mr. Bradford! If I had been here it wouldn’t have happened. The idea! Turning the house into a hospital! I won’t have it! Nobody knows who they are. I can’t have ’em on my best beds, and between my best sheets and blankets. Dirty, common soldiers! I never heard of such a thing!” And she got them out before supper. There was an office in the yard and she had them taken to this. They had to be carried past us, and I can see them now, poor, mortified, shame-faced fellows! I was as afraid of Aunt Sally as of a rattlesnake, but I think I could have shaken her then! Little it was that I saw of Dan or any of my army friends after the battle of Brandy. The cavalry was too busy watching Hooker’s, while our infantry was pushing on toward Pennsylvania, to spare any time to lighter matters. Every day the boys in gray marched by on their way North. I watched from the porch and windows if by any means I might catch sight of Dan. But his way did not lie by Bradford’s. One morning, however, I saw General Stuart riding by at the head of a large command. I thought they were going to stop and camp at Mr. Bradford’s, perhaps, but I was mistaken. As soon as I saw that they were going by without stopping, I ran to the fence and beckoned to General Stuart. He had seen me on the porch, and rode up to the fence at once. “Aren’t you going to stop at all?” I asked. “Not to-day. In fact we’re off for some time now.” “Is Dan going?” “Yes. He’s ahead now with General Chambliss.” “Am I not to see him at all, General Stuart?” I said, trying hard to keep my lip from quivering--I had a reputation to keep up with him. But he saw the quiver. “You can go on with the army if you want to,” he said in quick sympathy. “I will give you an ambulance. You can carry your own maid along, have your own tent, and have your husband with you. I will do anything I can for your comfort. You would nurse our poor fellows when they get hurt, and be no end of good to us. But it would be awfully hard on you.” “I wouldn’t mind the hardships,” I answered, “but you know Dan won’t let me go. I have begged him several times to let me live in camp with him. I could nurse the sick and wounded, and take care of him if he was shot, and I wouldn’t be a bit of trouble; and I could patch for the soldiers. Oh, I’d love to do it! If you come up with him, General Stuart, ask him to let me go, and if he says yes, send the ambulance.” “I’ll promise him what I promised you,” he said, smiling kindly. “Good-by now. I’ll ride on and send him back to say good-by to you, if I can manage it. Then you can talk him into letting you come with us.” I climbed up on the fence to shake hands with him and to say good-by, and I had another word for him. Beneath my dress and next my skin was a little Catholic medal which had been blessed by my confessor. It hung around my neck by a slender chain. I unclasped the chain, drew forth the medal and gave it to him, my eyes brimming with tears.