"I'm afraid they have learned the lesson so well that we shall never teach them how to stand," Mrs. Davis added, gayly.
"Ah! friends, we are teaching each other how to die—let us not forget that," Mrs. Gannat murmured, gently, and there was a sudden hush in the exchange of vivacities. Before the strain could he renewed, Mrs. Atterbury entered hastily, crying:
"The gentlemen are all distracted. We are going to have an old-time minuet, such as my mother used to dance with Justice Marshall and Tom Mayo. The President is going to lead with Mistress Wendolph, and all the rest of you are assigned, by command of the Executive."
"Humph! a military despotism?" asked Mrs. Renfrew, a young bride of the Executive Mansion, whose husband was confidential adviser of the President. "I don't think I shall obey. I shall show the honesty of my rebel blood by selecting my own partner, unless some one asks me very humbly."
"Shall I go on my knees, Mrs. Renfrew?—I know no humbler attitude,"
Jack said, hastily presenting himself.
"Oh, yes, sir; there is something humbler than the knees."
"Yes? What, pray?"
"Repentance. Deny your name; no longer be a Montague—that is, a Yankee.
Give me the hand of a rebel. Then I shall believe you."
"I am a rebel."
"Ah! you have been converted?"