“Yes.”
“Are you sorry?”
“No; are you?”
“N––no.”
And when Delaven went to look for Evilena to tell her they were to have lunch on the lawn (Mrs. McVeigh had installed him as master of ceremonies for the day), he found her in the coziest, shadiest nook on the veranda, entertaining a sample copy of the enemy, and assuring him that the grey uniforms would be so much more becoming than the blue.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Noon. Colonel McVeigh had been at the Terrace already a half day, and no sign had come from Pierson––no message of any sort. Judithe called Pluto and asked if the mail did not leave soon for down the river, and suggested 286 that when he took it to the office he would ask the man in charge to look carefully lest any letters should have been forgotten from the night before.
“Yes’m, mail go ’bout two hours now,” and he looked up at the clock. “I go right down ask ’bout any letters done been fo’got. But I don’ reckon any mail to go today; folks all too busy to write lettahs.”