Polly suggested one or two amusing descriptions for Roxy to add to her story, and so did Grandma Miller, and when they reached the historic town of Sharpsburg, with its old houses of stone or brick, its arched doorways and square porches with Colonial pillars, and began to see Union soldiers everywhere, Roxy was gaining courage and began to feel sure that she could describe imaginary dangers without even smiling at them.
Mrs. Miller directed Polly to follow the road leading north, toward Hagerstown, and told her to stop near a group of tents where sentinels paced slowly back and forth. One of these men smilingly answered Mrs. Miller’s questions.
“Yes,” he said, “General McClellan was in his tent,” and he would take him any message the ladies might wish delivered.
“Perhaps you will let my little granddaughter carry my message,” suggested Grandma Miller, and the sentinel said the little girl could go to the general’s tent with him, and helped the surprised Roxy from the wagon.
“You can tell the general your plan, Roxy, and ask his permission,” said Mrs. Miller, and before Roxy had time to ask a question she was hand in hand with the tall soldier walking toward a small tent in front of which stood two more sentinels one of whom, at word from Roxy’s companion, entered the tent; and a moment later Roxy found herself gazing up into the kindly dark eyes of the great General George B. McClellan.
“What can I do for you, little girl?” he asked kindly, and Roxy made her best curtsy, and said:
“If you please, sir, I have brought a circus to show the wounded soldiers. I think,” she added quickly, “it would make them laugh!”
“‘Make them laugh!’” repeated the general, and a little smile crept over his grave face.
“Well, my child, if you can do that for my poor boys you will be doing me the greatest possible service. Come in and tell me about it,” and Roxy followed him into the tent and eagerly began her story, to which the war-worn and tired general listened with interest, and when Roxy finished by asking anxiously if he thought her “circus” would not amuse the men in the hospital tents, adding: “I guess I look funny enough in the long blue coat and high white hat and whiskers to make anybody laugh,” General McClellan answered quickly: “I would like to see the circus myself, and I will go with you to the hospital tent near the Dunker Church. But what is your name, little girl?”
“Roxana Delfield. My father is a Union soldier, and he was wounded and we are at Grandma Miller’s,” she replied, as she walked beside the friendly soldier to where Grandma and Polly were anxiously waiting.