"Ye don't seem over'n above familiar in these parts, ladies," he said, with his politest grin.
"We are looking for an officer who promised to aid us in finding our friends in the hospital—or at least in getting news from them," said the elder of the two,—a fine-looking, though distressed and careworn woman of forty.
"Sho! wal. I s'pose he's got other things to look after, like as not!" And the soldier, in his sympathy, cast his eyes around in search of the officer. "Got friends in the hospital, hev ye?" Then peering curiously under the bonnet of the young female, "Ain't you the gal that merried Atwater?"
"O! do you know him? Is he—is he alive?" By which eager interrogatives he perceived that she was "the gal."
The droll countenance grew solemn. "I ain't edzac'ly prepared to answer that last question, Miss—Miss Atwater!" he said, with some embarrassment. "But the fust I can respond to with right good will. Did I know him!"—Tears came into his eyes as he added, "Abe Atwater, ma'am, was my friend; and a braver soldier or a better man don't at this moment exist!"
"Then you must know my boy, too!" cried the elder female,—"Frank Manly, drummer."
The soldier brightened at once.
"Frank Manly! 'Whom not to know argues one's self unknown.' Your most obedient, ma'am,"—bowing and scraping. "Your son has attracted the attention of the officers, and made himself pop'lar with every body. Mabby ye haven't heerd——"
"I've heard," interrupted the anxious mother. "But how is he? Tell me that!"
"Wal, he was a little grain more chirk last night, I was told. He has had a fever, and been delirious, and all that—perty nigh losing his chance o' bein' promoted, he was, one spell! But now I guess his life's about as sure's his commission, which Cap'n Edney says there ain't no doubt about."