"Where were you from this morning?"
"I came from a little country village about thirty miles from Norfolk—Chuckatuck, in Nansemond County."
As I was about to launch another tide of historic information upon him he again interrupted me.
"I saw your father as he was leaving the steamer. I was attracted to him because he made an appeal to all Masons, asking of them protection and care for his child and grandchild. He was thus making himself known to any of us, his brothers, who might be aboard when he disappeared at the turn of the boat. So you can safely confide in me, and I will help you in any way possible."
"Thank you," I replied. "I know my dear, dear papa is a Mason, and that he was anxious about me, but there is nothing to confide—nothing. I want only a stateroom and my tickets and some milk for the baby. I do not wish for any supper myself; I am too lonesome to eat. It is wicked to feel blue and downhearted, with baby and all the kind friends to watch over me, as you say; and then God is always near."
"Yes, that is true; but did you lose your husband in the war?"
"No, sir."
"He was in the war, though, was he not?"
"Yes, sir."
A fear came into my heart that I was talking too much. I did not want him to know anything concerning my husband, whose rank it was especially important to keep secret. I encouraged myself with the reflection that the end justified the means, even though a slight deviation from the truth might be involved, and said: