inns were crowded, and it was somewhat late
in the evening to find a friend to take me in. We strolled across the
State House grounds under the soft September skies, through the wide,
dusty streets, until we came to the future Governor's house. Though it
was late, we talked for yet another hour, and then, with a cheery
good-night, I was shown to my room.

CHAPTER XII

THE VETO OF A MAID

Ah, I am afraid the clean white sheets, the soft springy bed, and the
balmy September air proved traitor to me, after the hardships of a
soldier's life in the field, the rough bivouac, and the hard ride from
the North, for when I awoke with a start, I found the sun high in the
heavens and the music of birds coming through the open window from the
trees outside. Hurriedly dressing, I opened my door and went down the
broad stairway into the old hall. Everything was quiet, not a soul was
around. I wandered across the hall and parlour, and there I stood for
a few minutes, looking out into the street, when a merry burst of
laughter across the hall attracted my attention. The door of the room
opposite was slightly ajar, and I saw that it was the library of the
house; so crossing the hall, I gently rapped on the panel. A cheery
"Come in!" was my answer. I obeyed the summons, threw the door open,
and entered.

"Why, it is our feather-bed soldier," came a merry voice from the
broad window-sill, where sat two young ladies. A peal of ringing
laughter followed; for, indeed, I was somewhat non-plussed to thus
come upon two such laughing, merry girls.

One was dark, the other fair;
Both were sweet and debonair.

Indeed they were very pretty, sitting there amid the quaint old
surroundings, the heavy old book-presses, with solid oak doors, the
wainscoting extending to the ceiling, the broad window-seats, the
green trees, and quiet garden beyond. I knew at once that they must be
daughters of my host, Mistress Polly and Mistress Betsy Johnson, at
that time the reigning belles of the western shore.

"Now I know what awaited me I shall never forgive that feather-bed," I
replied, recovering from my confusion and making my best bow. "I would
never have proved such a traitor to my cloth."

"That is better," said Mistress Polly, the black-haired, dark-eyed
one. "Come and report to us, sir. Do you not know that no officer
returns from the army who does not immediately report to us?"

"I understand their alacrity in doing so. I shall