“Hurrah for the Alabama!” cried Evilena, who was leaning on the back of her brother’s chair. He put his arm around her and turned to Judithe.
“Have you become acquainted with the patriotic ardor of my little sister?” he asked. “I assure you we have to fight these days if we want to keep the affections of our Southern girls.”
Gertrude smiled across the table at him.
“I can’t fancy you having to fight very hard battles along that line, Monsieur,” replied Judithe, in the cool, half mocking tone she had adopted for all questions of sentiment with him; and Gertrude, who saw the look exchanged between them, arose from the table.
“Uncle Matthew asked to see you when you have time, Kenneth.”
“Thanks, yes; I’ll go directly. Mother, why not ask the boys of the guard to stop over for your party? They are of Phil Masterson’s company––all Carolina men.”
“Of course, I shall invite them personally,” and she left the room to speak to the men who were just finishing breakfast under an arbor, and congratulating themselves on the good luck of being travelling companions of Colonel McVeigh.
Evilena waltzed around the table in her delight at the entire arrangement; boys in uniform; the longed-for additions to the festivities, and they would have to be a formidable lot if she could not find one of their number worth dancing with; she would show Dr. Delaven that other men did not think her only a baby to be teased!
“Now, Madame Caron, we can show you a regular plantation jubilee, for the darkies shall have a dance at the quarters. You’ll like that, won’t you?”