“Dick’s regiment is very gallant,” said Jeanne, a trifle wistfully. “It has been complimented publicly on account of its bravery.”
“Well, it can’t beat the ‘Die No Mores,’” said Bob. “The boys have been specially good this week. Dad said last night that not a man had been under arrest for five days. I always sing to them when that happens.”
“Do you sing, Bob?”
“Yes; I have quite a good voice,” said Bob in such a matter-of-fact way that the other girl smiled. “Do you?”
“A little,” acknowledged Jeanne. “Father used to like to hear me.”
“Then we will give the boys a good time to-night. They like singing and dad thinks it helps to keep them cheerful. They often sing themselves.”
“I have heard them in the evening, and I like it when they do not sing rebel songs,” said honest Jeanne.
“Well, you can hardly expect them to sing any other, can you?” demanded Bob. “I don’t suppose that you do like it. I shouldn’t want to hear the Federal songs if I were in one of their camps. But the spirits of the men must be kept up for we expect to meet the enemy soon.”
“Do you?” cried Jeanne. “Oh, Bob, do you think that I could go to my side?”
“I don’t know, Jeanne. Dad said, you know, that it would be best to go to Jackson with us and then he would send you to the Federals. You wouldn’t be any nearer getting home with a party of skirmishers than you are with us.”