“And a good place it is too,” replied the lady busy with her scissors. “You have a thoughtful mother.”
“Mrs. Butler,” said the little girl suddenly after she and the lady had finished their task and the papers lay before them, “do you know John Archer?”
“No, child. Why?”
“He is the man to whom my father sent these papers,” said the girl thoughtfully. “Someway I do not like him. I wish he were not the man.”
“My dear,” reproved the lady gently, “we ought not to let our fancies dominate us. If the man came to the General’s rooms and was received there, rest assured that he is all right. The General has means of knowing whether a man is to be trusted or not.”
“True,” replied Jeanne, and feeling that it would be ungracious to give further expression to her distrust she went slowly back to the parlor. Why should she, a mere child, presume to doubt a man whom the General and even her own father trusted? “But I do wish,” sighed she as she opened the door of the apartment. “I do wish that he were not the man.”
“Here are the papers,” she said, going straight to Mr. Archer.
“Thank you.” Archer took the papers mechanically and without another word or look at her turned to the Orderly, and was conducted from the room.
Jeanne stood looking after him somewhat dismayed. Was this all? Some way she had thought, had expected it to be so different. Mr. Huntsworth, Captain Leathers, even the great Farragut had seemed to consider that she had done wonders in carrying the papers but this man thought nothing of her action. Tears of disappointment welled to her eyes.
“Never mind, child,” said Farragut seeing her distress. “Some people are so matter of fact that they suppose the whole world is of the same way of thinking. Besides, the consciousness of a good action is its own reward.”