“I have one to Commodore Porter, sir,” interrupted Jeanne, producing the missive. “He is my father’s friend.”
“That is all right,” General Wallace hastily scanned the letter. “But I will add a few lines to Farragut. Success to you, my child.”
“Thank you, sir,” answered Jeanne gratefully.
“Now we will amuse ourselves by walking about a little until the transport starts,” said Mr. Huntsworth as they left the room. “My train goes this afternoon.”
“Then I shall have to tell you good-bye soon,” said the girl regretfully. “I am sorry, Mr. Huntsworth. You have been very kind to me. My journey would not have been so easy had it not been for you.”
“Tut, tut, I have done nothing,” said the old gentleman. “I have pleased myself in helping you. I was glad to have such a bright little companion. And we shall meet again, my dear. I promise you that. I am not going to lose sight of my little comrade easily. I want to bring my daughter, Anne, to see you when you get home.”
“I wish you would,” replied Jeanne. “I should like to know her. Mr. Huntsworth, don’t you think I might send a telegram to my father from here to let him know that I am all right and about to start for New Orleans?”
“Why, bless my soul, child! That is the very thing to do! What a head you have! There is the office on the other side of the street.”
“Yes; that was what made me think of it.”
The telegram dispatched, the two wended their way to Jackson Park.