"It is not for me to judge in this matter," she said, with some reserve. "The girl is a good girl, however, and I will try and take the place of a mother to her. You have reasons for this haste unknown to me, probably. When do you wish the ceremony, and where, Doctor? The church up yonder," sliding into her easy, dogmatic tone again; "it's one of the few whole roofs in the place. That is best,—yes. And for time, say sunset. That will suit me. I must go write to that do nothing M'Key about the trousers for Pratt's men. They're boxed up in New York yet: and then I've to see to getting a supply of blue pills. If you'll only give one to each man two nights before going into battle, just enough to stir their livers up, you'll find it work like a charm in helping them to fight. Sundown,—yes. I cannot attend to it possibly before."
"It was the time I had fixed upon, if Grey consents."
"Pah! she's a bit of linen rag, that child. You can turn her round your finger, and you know it. You will find her down on the shore, I think. I must go and tell my young parson he had better read over the ceremony once or twice to be posted up in it."
"To be sure, Pratt," she said, a few moments after, as she detailed the intended programme to the Colonel, farther down the street,—"to be sure, it's too hasty. I have not had time to give it consideration as I ought. These wartimes, my brain is so thronged night and day. But I think it's a good match. There's an honest, downright vein in young Blecker that'll make a healthy life. Wants birth, to be sure. Girl's got that. You needn't sneer, Pratt. It is only men and women that come of the old rooted families, bad or good, that are self-poised. Made men always have an unsteady flicker, a hitch in their brains somewhere,—like your Doctor, eh? Grey's out of one of the solid old Pennsylvania stocks. Better blooded the mule, the easier goer, fast or not."
She shut her porte-monnaie with a click, and repinned her little veil that struck out behind her, stiff, pennant-wise, as she walked.
"Well, I've no time now. I'm going to drop in and see that Gurney, and tell him he's exchanged. And the sooner he's up and out, the better for him. Dyspepsia's what ails him. I'll get him out for a walk to-day. 'S cool and bracing."
It was a bracing day, the current of wind coming in between the Maryland Heights fresh and vigorous, driving rifts of gray cloud across the transparent blue overhead. A healthy, growing day, the farmers called it; one did fancy, too, that the late crops, sowed after the last skirmish about the town, did thrust out their green blades more hopefully to-day than before; the Indian corn fattened and yellowed under its tresses of soft sun-burnt silk. Grey, going with Pen that afternoon through a great field of it, caught the clean, damp perfume of its husk; it put her in mind of long ago, somehow, when she was no older than Pen. So she stopped to gather the scarlet poppies along the fence, to make "court-ladies" out of them for him, as she used to do for herself in those old times.
"Make me some shawls for them," said Pen, presenting her some lilac-leaves, which she proceeded to ornament by biting patterns with her teeth.
"Oth said, if I eat poppy-seeds, I'd sleep, an' never waken again. Is that true, Sis?"
"I believe it is. I don't know."