"Now, sissy," drawled the tall man, in a distressed voice, "don't cry!"
"I am not crying," protested Emmeline, in spite of good evidence to the contrary. "I want you to go away!"
"Well, sissy,"—the tall man seemed actually to be considering Emmeline's command,—"we couldn't very well do that."
"You will have to!" cried Emmeline. "Our soldiers are here by the million! They will make you go!"
The tall man made no answer to Emmeline's assertion.
"You come here to the porch, sissy. Nobody's going to hurt a leetle gal."
"I am going home," announced Emmeline. "I am going home to my mother. The battle is over." In spite of her brave words, Emmeline moved a little nearer to the porch. "Isn't the battle over?" she said.
"Not exactly," said the tall soldier.
As he mounted the porch, the others moved away. Busy men could not stand forever looking at a little girl in a striped dress. The tall soldier laid his hand on the latch.
"Sissy, do you know any way to get this door open short of breaking it in?"