Jennie decided to stick to the house at all hazards until forced to go. She walked down town to the post office in the vain hope a letter might have come through from New Orleans to her grandmother. Soldiers were lounging in the streets in squads of forty and fifty. A crowd was playing cards in the ditch and swearing as they fought the flies. Crowds of soldiers relieved from duty were marching aimlessly along the street. Some were sleeping on the pavements, others sprawled flat on their backs in the sun, heads pillowed in each other's lap.
To her surprise a letter addressed in the familiar handwriting of her brother was handed out at the post office by the young soldier in charge.
The seal had been broken.
Jennie's eyes flashed with rage.
"How dare you open and read my letter, sir!" she cried with indignation.
"I'm sorry, Miss," he answered politely. "We're only soldiers. Our business is to obey orders."
Jennie blushed furiously.
"Of course, I beg your pardon. I wasn't thinking when I spoke."
She read the letter with eager interest:
"Dearest little Sister: