—— Louisiana,
Barton’s Brigade—
read the lieutenant. He dropped the letters. “I am sure I beg your pardon, Cary! I didn’t in the least think what I was doing!”
“There’s no harm done, Morton.” He repossessed himself of the letters, struck the torch at another angle, and turned from the forest table. “Morton, I’m going in for promotion.”
The lieutenant laid down his pipe. “Well, if you go in for it, I’ll back you to get it, but I thought you said—”
“I did.”
“What do you want it for? Vain-glory?”
Edward locked his hands behind his head. “No; not for vain-glory—though it’s remarkable how brothers and fathers and kinsfolk generally like the clang of ‘Colonel’ or ‘Brigadier’! After the Merrimac and Monitor I wouldn’t take promotion, but I did get a furlough.... Morton, I’m going in for furloughs and a lieutenant-colonelcy. Back me up, will you?”
“Oh, we’ll all do that!” quoth Morton. “You might have entered as captain and been anything most by now—”
“I didn’t care to bother. But now I think I will.”