"That would be a waste of breath, as he's doing all he can already; but I'll do my part with coddling, write all your letters for you—business, friendship, love—and do anything else desired; if in my power."
"You're very good," he said, with a furtive glance at May, who seemed to see or hear nothing but her brother, who was asking about the last news from home; "very good indeed, Miss King; especially as regards the love-letters. I presume it would not be necessary for me even to be at the trouble of dictating them?"
"Oh, no, certainly not!"
"Joking aside, I shall be greatly obliged if you will write to Aunt Wealthy to-day for me."
"With pleasure; especially as I can tell her your wound is not a dangerous one, and you will not lose a limb. But do tell me. What did you poor fellows get to eat at Andersonville?"
"Well, one week's daily ration consisted of one pint of corn-meal ground up cob and all together, four ounces of mule meat, generally spoiled and emitting anything but an appetizing odor; but then we were not troubled with want of—the best of sauce for our meals."
"Hunger?"
"Yes; we'd plenty of that always. In addition to the corn-meal and meat, we had a half pint of peas full of bugs."
"Oh! you poor creatures! I hope it was a little better the alternate week."
"Just the same, except, in lieu of the corn-meal, we had three square inches of corn bread."