aren't you?"

"Not at all. Every man, woman and child in this city must take this oath,
or be known as an enemy of the Union. It works no hardship if one is
loyal, and acts as a restraining power on those who are not. The authority
of the Union must be recognized while the city is under my charge."

"Take the oath, child. That is, if you can do so conscientiously. But
whatever be the consequences accept them as a brave girl, and perjure
yourself for no man," advised Farragut.

"I will," said Jeanne chokingly. "It isn't because of the oath that I
feel bad, Admiral. It is because my loyalty to the Union has been doubted.
Do you think that I would carry this," and she drew the flag from the
bosom of her dress, "if I were not for the Union? I kiss its folds each
night, and with it before me, I pray for the success of my country." She
kissed it passionately as she spoke.

"That action speaks for itself," remarked General Butler with such a
change of tone that Jeanne looked up hastily. "No rebel woman or girl
that I have ever known would kiss that flag. I have hard work to make them
even walk under it. Forgive me, child, for doubting you, but treachery
lurks under so many different forms that I am forced to suspect even
children."

"Suppose," suggested the Admiral, relieved that the General had come to
his way of thinking, "suppose you begin at the beginning and tell us all
about this business. How many have you in the family?"

"Four," answered Jeanne promptly, a little comfort creeping into her
heart at the change in the General's manner. "Father who works for the
government, mother who is in the Monarch Relief Association, and Dick who
is in the army."

"Your brother is in the Union army?" queried the General.

"Yes, sir."

"That is easily verified," said the General, making a note of the fact.
"Now how did you come to be sent down here?"

Jeanne recounted the circumstances of the affair rapidly not even omitting
her mother's parting words of counsel. Both men listened with close
attention.

"And you knew nothing whatever of your Uncle Ben?" asked Butler when she
had finished.

"No, sir; father has not heard from him in many years. He will be grieved
to learn that he is a rebel," and her eyes filled with tears.

"I have no doubt of it. Now, my little girl, I am going to send you to
your uncle until I can look up the truth of your story."

"Couldn't you send me home?" asked the girl wistfully, a sudden yea