“Why, of course you could; and I will go right away and get one for you.”
“It will be too much trouble.”
“No, it will not be a bit of trouble. You lie still and think what good eating a bird is till it comes.”
I hurried away lest he should change his mind, bought some birds, and took them to the Christian Commission Home, where there was an excellent cook.
“Aunt Debby,” I said, as I marched into the kitchen with the birds, “I want you to broil two of these birds the very best you can. A soldier’s life depends upon them.”
“Laws, missus! You ’most scare me to death talking dat way. I’ze weak as a rag, and ken do nuthen.”
“But you’ll do it right, and then the soldier will get well. I’ll help you.”
In a very short time two birds nicely broiled, and dressed with a little fresh butter and a pinch of salt and pepper, lay in the bottom of a hot covered dish. A card with the name of the hospital, the name of the soldier, and the number of his cot, was attached to the basket; and a half-grown colored boy in service at the house was intrusted with it, and bore it away in haste.
“Take notice, Ben, what he does and says, so you can tell us when you come back,” was my last injunction.
In due time Ben came back, laughing. “Did he eat them?” I questioned eagerly.