“You know we don’t say ‘rebel’ anymore. Before we came to Washington I thought rebels would look unlike other people. I find we are very much alike, and that kindness and good nature wear away prejudice. And then you know there are all sorts of common interests. My husband sometimes says that he doesn’t see but confederates are just as eager to get at the treasury as Unionists. You know that Mr. Schoonmaker is on the appropriations.”
“Does he know many Southerners?”
“Oh, yes. There were several at my reception the other day. Among others a confederate Colonel—a stranger—handsome man with gray hair, probably you didn’t notice him, uses a cane in walking. A very agreeable man. I wondered why he called. When my husband came home and looked over the cards, he said he had a cotton claim. A real southerner. Perhaps you might know him if I could think of his name. Yes, here’s his card—Louisiana.”
Laura took the card, looked at it intently till she was sure of the address, and then laid it down, with,
“No, he is no friend of ours.”
That afternoon, Laura wrote and dispatched the following note. It was in a round hand, unlike her flowing style, and it was directed to a number and street in Georgetown:—
“A Lady at Senator Dilworthy’s would like to see Col. George Selby, on business connected with the Cotton Claims. Can he call Wednesday at three o’clock P. M.?”
On Wednesday at 3 P. M, no one of the family was likely to be in the house except Laura.