“You must be careful not to express your feelings too openly,” advised Mr. Huntsworth in a low tone. “These people are rebels but they are going to be our hosts and the Colonel has certainly interested himself in your behalf.”
“He has,” said Jeanne gratefully, “and I will be careful not to offend them.”
Bob, rather pale and agitated on account of the shells, met them at the door.
“Dad, what will we do if they shell the city?” she cried before greeting Jeanne.
“I reckon we can’t do anything,” drawled the Colonel. “I thought you were a soldier, Bob? Soldiers don’t mind a few shells.”
“I suppose not,” and Bob strove to regain her composure. “So you got Jeanne and her brother? Come in and tell me what else that woman has done. Here is Aunt Sally! Aunty, this is Jeanne and her brother, Dick Vance. They’re Yankees but they are real nice anyway.”
“I am glad to see you, my dear,” said the lady, kissing Jeanne. “Any friend of Bob’s is welcome be she Yankee or Confederate. And this is your brother? How pale he is! We must get him right to bed.”
She bustled about Dick in a motherly fashion, her sympathies fully enlisted on his behalf by his illness. Dick was in truth much exhausted by his journey and sank into slumber as soon as his head touched the pillow. Jeanne sat by him and told Bob and her aunt how Madame had tried to make him sign the paper.
“Rest and quiet are what he needs,” observed Mr. Huntsworth. “He will come out of this all right, I think, now that he is removed from your aunt’s ministrations. What a creature she is! She reminds me of the middle ages. Vindictive, passionate and cruel beyond measure as were the women of those times!”
The slow shelling of Vicksburg went on. The people gradually became indifferent and resumed their daily avocations. General Pemberton issued an order for all non-combatants to leave the city, but Bob and her aunt refused to pay any heed to it.