“In the battle of Magenta——”
“Oh, confound the battle of Magenta!” exclaimed Somers, interrupting him. “I will give you a handsome present if you will never say Magenta to me again.”
“Don’t be petulant, my dear boy! You have got a sweet temper naturally, and I hope you won’t spoil it.”
“I am afraid you will spoil it for me.”
“I was only saying pleasant things to you, and you fly off and roll yourself up in your dignity like a little hedgehog. By the way, Somers, don’t you suppose that Senator Guilford will hear of this affair?”
“I hope not.”
“Nor that little lady we left all used up with a broken arm?”
“I don’t care whether she does or not.”
“Or that other little lady who knits socks for soldiers that don’t run away in battle?”
Somers blushed like a maiden, and his experienced companion saw that he had touched the tender spot in his heart. Very likely the captain would have said something more on this interesting subject, if the conversation had not been interrupted by their arrival at the old house. Here they were met by a messenger from the colonel, ordering the detachment to hasten back; for orders had come for the brigade to retire to their old position.