Best of all, to one small person. Trixy had received permission to remain with the older people until nine o'clock, for she had complained that the nine o'clock gun at the fort always woke her, and Trif thought it a shame that the dear child had to be roused from sleep in a strange place, where she was alone, and Fenie said she was quite willing to sit beside Trixy's bed until the dear child fell asleep, and Trif did not dare to admit that her one consuming desire was that Fenie and Trixy should not be alone together a single instant until——
So Trixy remained up and awake, and Trif had no more thought of it than if she had been an inhabitant of another planet and without any right or title to a little girl who sat or stood near her all the while, as mute as a mouse, and also as observant. Bless congenial company! What wonders has it not wrought for tired men and women? Trif had not imagined herself tired when she started for the South, but woman's work is never done while woman is at home. So when she finds herself so far from it that she cannot by any possibility attend to it, yet can drop it from her mind, how she does enjoy the chat of other good women similarly situated!
As to Fenie, she was the centre of a little group of officers from the fort. Her sister was with her, and, although to some of the party the older sister was the more interesting of the two, she who was the younger and unmarried, assumed all the admiration was as entirely for her as if there were no other women at Old Point. Those officers did say such clever and delightful things! As to that, so did two or three civilians who joined the party, but there was something about a uniform that—oh, Fenie couldn't explain it, but she was sure that any other girl in similar circumstances would understand exactly what she meant.
Besides, was there not in the edge of the mirror the photograph of a man to whom her heart was entirely loyal, although no allegiance had ever been demanded? Others might be men, but he—he was Harry Trewman, the only man she had ever—no, not the only man she had ever loved, for she could not truly say, as yet, that she really loved Harry.
Just as some one had told a very amusing story, and Fenie had laughed heartily at it, and begun to tell a story of which the first had reminded her, she stopped and turned pale. Her sister wondered what was the matter, and soon learned, for, through the parlor, on the way to one of the corridors, and preceded by a porter with bags and wraps, came Harry Trewman and Kate. Fenie moved from the circle—moved as if she were in a dream. She extended her hand to Harry, who took it gravely, respectfully, for a fraction of a second, and then hurried after his sable guide. Fenie dropped back to her chair, resumed the story she had been telling, and completed it with such a mass of detail that, when finally the party broke up, one of the junior officers told a comrade that Miss Wardlow had evidently met her fate, and met him that very evening, too.
It was Fenie who broke up the party, for she was sure Trixy ought to be in bed—was it not after ten o'clock? No, indeed; Trif should not take the child to the room; hadn't she herself promised to look carefully after the dear little invalid?
Nevertheless, Trif herself was in the room within a few minutes. She found Trixy in bed, and Fenie kneeling beside her, and Trixy was talking, and Trif did not like to interrupt, because sometimes Trixy said things so odd that her mother liked to hear without seeming to notice.
"Trixy, Trixy," Fenie had just said. "It is very late, and you must be very sleepy. Don't you think you can drop off now?"
"I—s'pose so," the child drawled, "but there was somethin' I wanted to ask you. Let me see; what was it? Oh!" and Trixy sprang up and suddenly became very wide awake. "Say, Aunt Fee, did lookin' at him make you well?"