“Can you tell me where the Thirteenth is?”
“Yes’m. We lef’ ’em ’bout the aige of Culpeper, yistiddy. Lor’m! we’ve had times!”
“What was the matter?”
“We been havin’ a heap o’ fightin’. The kurnel, he warn’t thar at Beverly Ford, an’ we didn’t have but one squadron, an’ the adjutant, he led the charge an’ he sholy come mighty nigh gittin’ killed. Lor’m! what’s the matter with ye?”
“Nothing! Go on! Make haste, tell me—make haste. The adjutant——”
“His horse got shot under him, an’ his courier ridin’ right ’longside o’ him got killed, an’ the adjutant warn’t hurt, not a mite. But, Lor’m! that was sholy a narrer escape! An’ they say that the adjutant’ll git promoted.”
Didn’t I say so? Didn’t I think of that when I got the uniform?
“Thank you,” I said to the man. “You bring me the first news I have had of my husband for a long time.”
“Good gracious! you ain’t our adjutant’s wife?”
“Yes, I am. And I am glad to meet one of his soldiers. And you are the first to tell me good news.”