Jennie found her grandmother resting serenely in her great rocking chair, apparently indifferent to the uproar of the town. The household with its seventy-odd negro servants was running its usual smooth, careless course.
Jennie read aloud the announcement in the morning paper of Butler's order to New Orleans:
"All devices, signs, and flags of the Confederacy shall be suppressed—"
She clenched her fist and sprang to her feet.
"Good! I'll devote all my red, white and blue silk to the manufacture of Confederate flags! When one is confiscated—I'll make another. I'll wear one pinned on my bosom. The man who says, 'Take it off,' will have to pull it off himself. The man who does that—well, I've a pistol ready!—"
"What are you saying, dear?" the old lady asked with her thin hand behind her ear.
"Oh, nothing much, grandma dear," was the sweet answer. "I was only wishing I were a man!"
She slipped her arms about her thin neck and whispered this in deep, tragic tones. With a bound she was off to the depot to see the last squad of soldiers depart for the front before the gunboats arrived.
They waved their hats to the crowds of women and children as the train slowly pulled out.
"God bless you, ladies! We're going to fight for you!"