"Miss Ryder knows I meant no such thing," said the officer with some heat.
"Is this Miss Lucy Ryder?" I inquired.
"What do you know of Lucy Ryder?" the lady asked.
"I know she has a sister Jane," I answered, whereupon the lady blushed again. "And I have heard that Miss Jane doesn't like a friend of ours—a young fellow named Jack Bledsoe, who is greatly in need of sympathy at this time."
"I like him well enough to go on a wild-goose chase in search of him," the lady replied. "We had an idea that he had been left on the battle-field."
Harry, who had been consulting with our comrades who had just arrived, returned in time to overhear a part of this conversation. He fumbled in his pocket and finally produced Jack Bledsoe's note. He lifted his hat as he handed it to the lady. She read it very calmly, and then passed it to the Federal officer who had escorted her: "You see, I am justified in coming."
"We sat up with Jack last night, my friend and I," Harry remarked.
"Well, you know the Bible tells us to love our enemies," remarked the lady, dryly.
"It was an easy matter to carry out the commandment in this particular instance, for, with the exception of this gentleman here"—indicating me—"Jack Bledsoe is the dearest friend I ever had."
"I know you well enough," the lady remarked with a smile. "You are Harry Herndon, and your friend there is Carroll Shannon, and the negro is Whistling Jim. Why, I know your grandmother, although I have never seen her."