"Thanks, Major. If that prisoner shows her face again, I'll just start some real mice through the window." And, saluting, he resumed his beat.
Nancy did not wait, but joined Goddard before he could recross the street.
"I go down this way," she said, and Goddard, suiting his step to hers, strolled with her along A Street. "What train do you propose taking to Winchester, Major?"
"The nine o'clock, if that is convenient for you and your aunt."
"Perfectly so." She stopped before an unpretentious house. "Shall we meet at the depot to-morrow?"
"If you will let me, I will call for you and your aunt."
"We shall be delighted." The front door had been opened by a small boy in answer to Goddard's imperative knock. Nancy turned and held out her hand. "Until then—good-bye." And the door slammed shut.
Turning on his heel, Goddard retraced his steps to the Capitol, but when he reached the building he concluded not to enter, so continued on his way to his boarding house opposite the Ebbitt. On leaving the Capitol grounds, his progress was blocked by a regiment of raw recruits on its way to the front, which halted and "marked time." Their band struck up "Three Hundred Thousand More," and the soldiers instantly sang the stirring words:
We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;