He laughed outright. “You are cool!” he said.
“You know what my duty is?” he added after a pause.
“Yes,” I answered. “To fight on the right side, but I’m afraid you’ll never do that. Now, I have been wanting to play Dixie ever since I’ve been here, and I’m afraid of nobody but you. To-night I mean to play it.” But I did not. That afternoon a card was brought up to Milicent and me. Major Littlebob, U. S. A., was sorry to disturb us, but would we please step down a minute. “Major Brooks came in with him,” said the servant who brought the message.
“Major Brooks is going to have us arrested,” I thought in terror. Milicent also was frightened by the message and by a call from an unknown officer of the United States army who came accompanied by Major Brooks. Mother followed us in fear and trembling to the parlor door as we went in to behold—Milicent’s own curly-headed Bobby, all rigged out in Major Brooks’s regimentals! There he was, all swallowed up in sash, sword, and hat of a United States major of cavalry; beside him was the major, laughing merrily. Milicent, in her relief, bent over and kissed again and again the fairest, softest, cutest, sweetest Major Littlebob that ever wore the regimentals of the U. S. A.; and it is needless to say that after this we were never again afraid of Major Brooks.
“So, the whole purpose of your running the blockade was a visit to your mother?” Major Brooks had asked.
“And to accompany my sister. And—to buy a few things—needles, pins, and so forth,” I added in confusion.
Again the major laughed at my expense. Should I confide the Confederate uniform to him and Captain Hosmer? I decided to draw the line at this, as I had drawn it at Captain Locke. Of course, Captain Locke’s story was his, not mine, and the uniform—well, the uniform was Dan’s, or, rather, I hoped it would be. It was never out of my mind. I would have failed in half my mission if I did not buy it and get it across the Potomac to Dan. To buy shoes, gloves, ribbons, etc., was an easy matter, but to buy, a Confederate uniform in Yankeeland, that was a more delicate affair. It was Captain Locke who helped me out. He told me where I could buy it, and offered to get it for me himself, but he was taking so many risks on his own account that I was determined he should take none on mine. He directed me to a tailoring establishment on the corner of Charles and St. Paul’s Streets. The head of this establishment sympathized with the South and had supplied many Southern uniforms, and his store had a convenient double entrance, one on St. Paul’s and one on Charles Street. One morning I went in at the Charles Street entrance. I had chosen an early hour, and I found no one in but the tailor.
“I want to buy a Confederate uniform,” I said. “Captain Locke referred me——”
“Walk straight on out at the other door,” he whispered. “I see two soldiers coming in from the Charles Street side.”
Without looking behind me I walked straight on as if I had merely passed through the store to get to the other sidewalk. I heard some one coming rapidly behind me, and then I was joined by Captain Hosmer.