"Not long. New Yorkers are very easy with their money. They'll give it away for a song that pleases them—or a lilt on the wee fiddle—or even a few steps of clever dancing."
"I know someone, not far from me, just as easy with their money—under the same circumstances."
Then the Major laughed. "You are right, Mrs. Caird," he said. "I declare you are right. Oh, but you are a quick woman!"
"Well, after he has done with New York, where is he then going?"
"Straight west as far as the Mississippi River. What he will do on the way to the river no one knows—but luck is waiting for him."
"Perhaps he will go to California."
"No. California gold does not tempt him. He is going down the Mississippi to New Orleans. A good many Scotch boys are there. I gave him letters to three whom I sent to New Orleans fourteen years ago. They are well-to-do cotton merchants now."
"You help a great many men, Major?"
"These three smoked their pipes with me in the trenches at Redan; and we rode together down the red lanes of Inkerman. I was making friends for Donald then."
"But Donald will not stay in the city of New Orleans?"