Calhoun listened to the story in wonder. When it was finished, he exclaimed: “Why, Kate, you are a heroine! I am proud of you.”
“I am not proud of myself,” answered Kate. “I blush every time I think of how—how I lied and deceived.”
“Oh! that is a part of war,” laughed Calhoun. “If Morgan didn’t lie about the number of men he had, the Yanks would gobble him up in no time. We don’t call such things lying; it’s a righteous deceiving of the enemy.”
“But I am ready to sink into the earth with shame every time I think of Ainsworth,” sighed Kate.
“That’s rich,” laughed Calhoun; “crying because you broke the heart of a Yankee! Kate, I have a mind to send you into the enemy’s lines. If Cupid’s darts were only fatal, your bright eyes would create more havoc than a battle.”
“No use sending her away,” broke in Mrs. Shackelford; “there are more Federal officers buzzing around her now than I wish there were.”
“Mighty useful to worm secrets from,” exclaimed Kate; “but I make no promises to any of them.”
“That’s right, Kate, get all the secrets from them you can,” said Calhoun; “that is what I am in Nashville for. Can any one get around the city without much danger?”
“Oh, yes, in the daytime; but there is always more or less danger to strangers. Business is going on as usual. The city is lively, livelier than before the war; but it is soldiers—soldiers everywhere.”
“And you have to have no passes?” asked Calhoun.