The boy sat down and twiddled his cap nervously.
"I've come to ask an appointment of some kind in the regular army of the Confederacy. I'm an officer of the North Carolina militia. I wish to enter the regular army."
The Confederate chieftain looked at the peculiarly youthful, beardless face. He couldn't be more than eighteen from appearances.
"I'm afraid you're too young, sir," he said slowly, shaking his head.
The boy drew himself up with a touch of wounded pride.
"Why, Mr. Davis, I voted for you for President last November."
Instantly the Chief Executive rose, blushing his apology. He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder and spoke with the utmost deference.
"I beg your pardon, sir. I should have been more observant and thoughtful. I was very much like you when I was a boy. It was a long time before I had any whiskers myself."
With a friendly smile he touched his thin beard.