She gave the military salute with her accustomed grace and spirit, lifting her hand to the brim of her hat, and looked laughing along the line of stern, bearded faces and military figures on either side of the long table.
The other "ladies" did not know that Soldier-Boy was there, though they saw him, and she saw him, too! It was in the library, and it was just about dusk. They were surprised, and came and told the family that they had seen a ghost. They knew no better! They were young and they were little. They were only six, the twins, and she was eight; a great girl indeed!
Once more she tossed back her hair, and, with her eyes intent from under the wide Leghorn brim of her hat, bedecked with bows of a broad white ribbon with fluffy fringed edges, she watched his white military gauntlets, uplifted as he asked the next question on his slow fingers.
How her own swiftly flickered!
Yes, indeed, she had told the family better. It was no ghost, but only Soldier-Boy! She had told Captain Baynell. She wanted him to see Soldier-Boy. He was beautiful—the most beautiful member of the family!
Oh, yes, Baynell knew he was in the house. She had told him by her sign. When she had first shown him Soldier-Boy's fine portrait, they had told him what she meant.
No! Captain Baynell had not forgotten! For when she said it was no ghost, but Soldier-Boy, Cousin Leonora cried out, "Oh, she means Julius; that is her sign for him!" Cousin Leonora did not use the manual alphabet; she read the motion of her lips. None of them used the alphabet except a little bit; Soldier-Boy the best of all.
Throughout there was a continual ripple of excitement among the members and several heads were dubiously shaken. More than once Baynell's counsel sought to interpose an objection,—mindful of the preposterous restrictions of his position, swiftly writing his views, transmitted, as if he himself were dumb, through the prisoner to the judge-advocate and by him to the court. The testimony of the witness could not be legally taken this way, he insisted, merely by the repetition of what she had said, by a member of the court-martial for the benefit of the rest.
The peculiar petulance of those who lack a sense was manifested in the acrimony which shone in the child's eyes as she perceived that he sought to restrict and repress her statement of her views. When he ventured himself to ask her a question, having some knowledge of the manual alphabet, she merely gazed at his awkward gesticulations with an expression of polite tolerance, making no attempt to answer, then cast up her eyes, as who should say, "Saw ever anybody the like of that!" and catching the intent gaze of the brigadier, she burst into a sly coquettish ripple of laughter that had all the effect of a roguish aside. Then, turning to the ex-surgeon, her fingers flickered forth the hope that he would come and see her and talk. When the war was over, she was going back to school where she had learned the manual alphabet,—there, although dumb, they talked much.
The mention of the word "school" suggested an idea which obviated the difficulty as to how this extraordinary testimony could be put into such shape as to render it available, impervious to cavil, strictly in accordance with precedent in the case of witnesses who are "mute by the visitation of God." The cross-examiner asked her if she could write. How she tossed her head in pride and scorn of the question! Write—of course she could write. Cousin Leonora had taught her.