"Could he get men to enlist?"
"Why, of course. He's the master of Warlock, you know."
Then with a little touch of embarrassment, she added, "I mean he is the head of one of the great families, and they always have influence."
"O, yes, of course," Stuart answered. "I see the situation clearly. Will you say to Mr. Pegram—Sergeant-Major Pegram, I mean—that I have authority from the War Department to raise three companies of flying artillery, with the men all mounted, to serve with the cavalry, and that if he can form such a company,—of fifty or seventy-five men, or better still a hundred men—I will secure him a captain's commission with authority to do so?"
"But, General," said the girl, quickly, and in manifest fright, "I do not correspond with Mr. Pegram. In fact we are very nearly strangers."
"O, I see," answered the cavalier, with a twinkle in his eyes. "How long has it been since you and this gallant young gentleman arranged to be 'very nearly strangers?'"
"O, you entirely mistake, General," the girl quickly answered. "Really and truly I never knew Mr. Pegram very well; but he wore a red feather of mine at the battle of Manassas, and afterward he sent it back to me and—well, anyhow he proved his gallantry and he really ought to be something more than a sergeant-major, don't you think?"
For answer Stuart made a sweeping bow, removing his hat and saying: "Concerning Sergeant-Major Baillie Pegram, I think whatever you think. Anyhow, as he had the good taste to wear your red feather, and as he has fought well enough to secure a wound and a mention in general orders and your personal approval, he shall be a captain if he wants to be. Give me his address, and you need not have any correspondence with him."
"I'll write it," she answered, "if you'll excuse me for a moment," and with that she retired within doors—for they had been standing in the porch—in a rage of vexation with herself. She hastily sponged off her inflamed face with cold water, dried it, and loosely twisted up her errant hair, which had run riot over her neck and shoulders ever since the little encounter with the enemy. Then she scribbled Baillie Pegram's Warlock address on a scrap of paper and returned to Stuart's presence, with the mien and bearing of a queen.
The cavalier's face was rippling all over with smiles as he bade her adieu, wished her Godspeed in her enterprise, and turned away. At the steps he faced about, and advancing said to her: