"Let us go, mamma; you and I."
"I?" said mamma. "I go to that den of thieves? No; I shall not go to Washington, unless I am dragged there."
"But Preston, mamma; think!"
"I am tired of thinking, Daisy. There is no good in thinking. This is the work of your favourite Northern swords and guns; I hope you enjoy it."
"I Would like to remedy it, mamma; to do something at least.
Mamma, do let us go to Preston!"
I spoke very earnestly, and I believe with tears. Mamma looked at me.
"Why, do you care for him?" she asked.
"Very much!" I said weeping.
"I did not know you had any affection for anything South, except the coloured people."
"Mamma, let us go to Preston. He must want us so much!"