“The morning paper’s account of the engagement I described to you at full length last night.”
“Read it aloud, dear, while I pour out our coffee.”
“It is hardly worth reading. It isn’t a hundredth part of what I told you myself. But if you want to hear it, here goes:
“‘Battle of Bleak Hill. Defeat of the guerrillas. Death of the notorious Free Sword.’”
Elfie read these headings, which were all in very conspicuous type. And then she went on with the description of the fight, with the details of which our readers are already familiar.
“I suppose that the news came by the same train that brought me last night, although it could not be made public until this morning,” said Elfie, as she laid aside the paper.
When they had finished breakfast, and the young mistress of the house had issued her orders for the day to cook, housemaid and man servant, the two young ladies went up stairs together.
“I can’t attend you in your rounds through the hospitals this morning, Erminie dear, for I must go first to see little Mim,” said Elfie, as they parted on the landing, each to seek her own room.
“But you will go with me this afternoon?” urged Erminie, with her hand on the knob of her door.
“Oh, yes—certainly,” answered Elfie, as she disappeared in her chamber.