"I don't know—I suppose we shall go into the woods again."
"When the examination is over, I can attend to you. I haven't much time just now. But there is really nothing to be done here, since one can't get on horseback out of the hours."
"I don't want anything better than I can get on my own feet," I said joyously. "I find plenty to do."
"Look here, Daisy," said Preston—"don't you turn into a masculine, muscular woman, that can walk her twenty miles and wear hobnailed shoes—like the Yankees you are among. Don't forget that you are the daughter of a Southern gentleman—"
He touched his cap hastily and turned away—walking with those measured steps towards the barracks; whither now all the companies of grey figures were in full retreat. I stood wondering, and then slowly returned with my friends to the hotel; much puzzled to account for Preston's discomposure and strange injunctions. The sunlight had left the tops of the hills; the river slept in the gathering grey shadows, soft, tranquil, reposeful. Before I got to the hotel, I had quite made up my mind that my cousin's eccentricities were of no consequence.
They recurred to me, however, and were as puzzling as ever. I had no key at the time.
The next afternoon was given to a very lively show: the light artillery drill before the Board of Visitors. We sat out under the trees to behold it; and I found out now the meaning of the
broad strip of plain between the hotel and the library, which was brown and dusty in the midst of the universal green. Over this strip, round and round, back, and forth, and across, the light artillery wagons rushed, as if to show what they could do in time of need. It was a beautiful sight, exciting and stirring; with the beat of horses' hoofs, the clatter of harness, the rumble of wheels tearing along over the ground, the flash of a sabre now and then, the ringing words of command, and the soft, shrill echoing bugle which repeated them. I only wanted to understand it all; and in the evening I plied Preston with questions. He explained things to me patiently.
"I understand," I said, at last, "I understand what it would do in war time. But we are not at war, Preston."
"No."