May 9.—This morning the door-bell rang a startling peal. Martha being busy, I answered it. An orderly in gray stood with an official envelop in his hand.
"Who lives here?"
"Mr. L."
Very imperiously—"Which Mr. L.?"
"Mr. H.L."
"Is he here?"
"No."
"Where can he be found?"
"At the office of Deputy——."
"I'm not going there. This is an order from General Pemberton for you to move out of this house in two hours. He has selected it for headquarters. He will furnish you with wagons."