“Why, yes; he protected them from the intrusion of the Yankees.”
“Oh––h! Aunt Sajane, I really thought you were going to ferret out a romance––a Romeo and Juliet affair––their families at war, and themselves––”
“Evilena!”
“When Gertrude says ‘Evilena’ in that tone I know it is time to stop,” said the girl, letting go the kitten she was patting, and putting her arm around Gertrude. “You dear, sensible Gertrude, don’t mind one word I say; of course I did not mean it. Just as if we did not have enough Romeos in our own army to go around.”
The significant glance accompanying her words made Gertrude look slightly conscious.
“You are a wildly romantic child,” she said, smoothing the chestnut tinted waves of the girl’s hair, “and pray, tell us how many of our military Romeos are singing ‘Sweet Evilena,’ and wearing your colors?”
Dr. Delaven passed along the hall in time to hear this bantering query, and came opposite the door when this true daughter of the South was counting all the fingers of one pretty hand.
“Just make it a half dozen,” he suggested, “for I’m wearing yet the sunflower you gave me,” and he pointed to the large daisy in his buttonhole.
“No, I’m always honest with Gertrude, and she must have the true number. We are talking of military men, and all others are barred out.”
“So you informed me the first day of our acquaintance,” he assented, arranging the daisy more to his liking.