“That man!” she replied, pointing to an officer near by, “has come to take away my shawl. It’s the last wrapping I have! He declares it is part of Mr. Davis’s disguise!”
“You’re not going to let him have it?” I asked, my indignation rising at once.
“What can I do?” asked Mrs. Davis, wringing her hands.
“Tear it into shreds as fine as vermicelli!” I cried, “and throw it into Hampton Roads!”
As I spoke the officer stepped toward us. Raising his hand and shaking his finger in my face, he asked, threateningly, “You dare counsel resistance, Madam?”
“Yes!” I retorted, returning the finger-shaking, “To the shedding of blood, and I’ll begin with you!”
The scene must have been a ludicrous one to all save the two participants. Mrs. Davis’s spirits certainly rose in contemplating it, for, as the officer strutted off, his sword dragging at his side, she smiled as she said, “Puss-in-boots!” In a second, however, her anxiety returned.
“What shall we do?” she asked. “He will surely come back for the shawl.” Bent upon foiling him, I quickly suggested an expedient.
“My shawl,” I said, “is almost a counterpart of yours. Let’s fold them both up and make him guess which is which. Perhaps he’ll take mine!” and we laughed heartily at the device.
It was not long ere Lieutenant Hudson returned, this time with another shawl, a coarse thing such as the small stores nearby afforded. Upon his repeated demand we complacently handed him Mrs. Davis’s shawl and mine. To our amazement he took them both. Then, as the old saying puts it, we “laughed on the other side of our faces.” For, by the aid of one of Mrs. Davis’s former maids, Lieutenant Hudson was enabled to identify Mrs. Davis’s shawl, which he retained, returning mine. The first, for many years, was preserved among the curios of the Smithsonian Institution.