“Carried north——”
Again:
“Don’t know where.”
This was the last he had opportunity to say. I saw the orderly coming in. Before Lieutenant Vance was near enough to catch another word from me, the orderly stood before me, a telegram in his hand. It was from General Fish to General Kelly:
“The ladies were sent south at their own request. I decline further connection with the matter.”
“Why—why,” I cried in desperation, “we can’t go south, we can’t go north, and we can’t stay here!”
There was a pert little Yankee in the room who had been watching us for some time. He, like everybody else around us, understood by this time our dilemma.
“I’ll tell you how to get sent on, if you will listen,” he said.
“I will,” I said clearly and firmly, and looking straight into the eyes of Lieutenant Vance, who was then passing close by me.
The little Yankee was staggered by the unnecessary amount of resolution expressed in my reply. I kept my eyes focused on the spot where Mr. Vance had been for some seconds after he had passed. Then I turned to my little Yankee. I had snubbed him severely heretofore, but I was humbled by extremity, and willing enough now to listen if he could tell us how to get away from this place.