lcome was almost more than she could bear. But as this gleam of
sunshine comforted her, she steeled herself against its influence and
drew herself up bravely.

"I must tell you something," she said, "before you welcome me too warmly.
I am for the Union."

She did not dare to look at them as she spoke. Her thought was that
they must know her principles before going further. She was homesick
and longing for love and tenderness, but not for one moment would she
receive them under false pretenses. A glance flashed from husband to
wife and then a clear, silvery laugh rang out as the lady caught her
to her.

"You dear little Yankee! you are too ridiculous for anything! Did you
think we would turn you out because you were not a rebel? Well, we are
rebels, my dear, but as we have to stand that odious, uncouth General
Butler of yours I think we won't mind a little thing like you. Come now,
and I will take you to your room and you shall rest. Then you shall tell
us why you have come all this way to see us at such a time."

Jeanne returned her caresses with fervor, and abandoned herself to the
delight of being fondled and petted again as only children can do who have
been deprived of endearments after being accustomed to them.

"They are nice people," she whispered as the lady left her in a cool quiet
room. "I wonder if it is wrong to like them? But it is father's brother,
and I ought to love them. Oh, I do wish they were not rebels! How can they
be traitors when they are so good!"

After she had rested her uncle's wife came for her.

"You are not weary now, are you?" she asked in her soft, caressing voice.
"You looked so fatigued, child. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Jeanne."

"Jeanne? Oh, you darling! That is French, isn't it? I did not know that
the Americans ever named their children so. Jeanne! It is delightful."

"And you are Aunt Clarisse?"

"Ma foi, Jeanne! Do not call me anything so prim. Call me 'Cherie.' Aunt
Clarisse indeed!" She laughed gaily.

"Cherie! what does it mean?" asked the girl wonderingly, gazing at the
bright face above her with delight. "It should be something brilliant
and sweet to suit you, I think. Something like rich red roses heavy with
perfume and sweetness."

"You little flatterer! And you call yourself a Yankee? No, no; Yankees
do not make speeches like that. You are French as your name is."

"But I like to be a Yankee," cried Jeanne.

"Be what you like, little one, so long as y