“You wished to see me?” said John Archer, and it seemed to Jeanne that he was trying to make signs to her.
“If you are Mr. John Archer?” and Jeanne looked at him steadily. “I came from Mr. Richard Vance.”
“Vance? Richard Vance?” repeated the other as if the name conveyed nothing of importance to his mind. “What Vance?”
“Why Richard Vance of New York City,” answered Jeanne in astonishment. She had inferred from what her father had said that John Archer would be well acquainted with the name. “He is my father, and he has sent me to you with some papers. If you are Mr. John Archer?”
“I am he,” answered the man, “but I know nothing about any papers.”
“I thought that you would,” murmured Jeanne. There seemed something strange to her in the way the man was acting. “My mother sewed them into my petticoat,” she continued with a growing reluctance against parting with them. “If there is any place where I could go I would get them. It seemed the best way to carry them.”
“Orderly,” interposed General Butler turning to them, “take the young lady to Mrs. Butler. My wife will gladly assist you,” he added to Jeanne.
“Thank you,” said Jeanne, gratefully hurrying after the Orderly. They soon reached the apartments set aside for the use of General Butler’s wife, and she herself opened the door in answer to the Orderly’s knock.
“Come right in,” she said cordially in response to Jeanne’s rapid explanation. “You are young to be sent on such an errand, my dear. But the times are such that we cannot always choose our messengers. Very often the young prove more reliable than older persons. You say that they are in your petticoat, my child?”
“Yes, ma’am,” returned Jeanne. “You see it made my frock stand out like crinoline and no one would think it was anything else.”