FOR THE CAUSE
Captain Gurley pushed open the rickety gate impatiently, and strode up the walk to "Page Hall" with jingling spurs and clanking saber. The rambling old house, with shutters askew, bore mute testimony to the fallen fortunes of its owner. The paint was peeling off the tall pillars, and the boards of the gallery shook ominously under Gurley's weight.
"Miss Page done say yo' was ter walk inter de pawler, Marse Cap'in," said the old darky, bowing and scraping on the threshold of the open door, "an' Miss Nancy'll be down d'reckly."
Gurley followed the old man in to the big, square room, and waited with what patience he could muster for Nancy's appearance. When she finally entered the room she was dressed for walking.
"Do you think the authorities would allow me to send a telegram, John?" she asked, after a few words of greeting.
"I don't know, Nancy; Colonel Smith is very strict. But I can ask him. Is it important?"
"Aunt Metoaca has just received a letter from our cousin, Mrs. Green, saying that her house was burned to the ground, and she is homeless. So Aunty wants to telegraph her to go to our house, and that we will return to Washington at once."
Gurley's face fell. "Oh, don't say you are going away. I am sorry about Mrs. Green's misfortune; but surely your servants can take care of her in your absence?"
"Mrs. Green is a cripple, and we fear the shock and exposure at the time of the fire may make her ill. Aunt Metoaca also feels that she should be with her cousin in case she is financially embarrassed by her loss."
"I will escort you to the telegraph office, Nancy, and try and arrange to have your despatch sent at once. But I call it beastly hard luck," grumbled Gurley, as they sauntered through Miss Page's garden and into the main street of the town. "I have hardly seen a thing of you; you spend your entire time with Bob Goddard...."