"I will," sobbed Jeanne, breaking down completely as her father started
away. "Oh, father, kiss me just once more."

"Is it too much for you, my little girl?" Mr. Vance held her closely. "You
need not go, Jeanne."

"I want to. I am all right," gasped Jeanne, controlling herself by an
effort. "Now go, father, dear. See how brave I am."

She smiled up at him through her tears. Mr. Vance regarded her anxiously.

"Go," whispered Jeanne as the train began to move. Hastily her father
left her. Jeanne leaned from the window and waved her hand as long as she
could see him. But soon the train rounded a curve and he was lost to view.
Then leaning back in her seat she gave herself up to her tears.

CHAPTER IV

A TIMELY RENEWAL OF ACQUAINTANCE

Jeanne sobbed unrestrainedly for some time. A sense of forlornness
oppressed her, and the magnitude of the task she had undertaken weighed
upon her spirits. As Mr. Vance had said she had never traveled alone
before, and now that she had actually started upon the journey a
thousand fears assailed her. The idea of being engaged upon a mission
that involved something of risk had seemed a noble thing, and easy of
accomplishment in her own home. Here, lacking the sustaining presence of
her parents, and the relaxation after the excitement of the day, made
the enterprise seem formidable indeed. So absorbed was she in her
meditations that she had not noticed the other occupants of the coach,
but presently there was borne in upon her senses the sound of singing.

"Oh, what is it?" she exclaimed with a nervous start.

"Some soldiers on their way to Washington," answered a lady who sat behind
her.

Jeanne's interest was aroused at once, and she looked about her. In the
rear of the car were a number of soldiers clad in blue. They seemed in
high spirits and were singing lustily:

"'Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys,
We'll rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom;
We will rally from the hillside,
We will rally from the plain,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom.'"

"They are going to the war with a song upon their lips, perhaps to be
killed, while I am afraid because I am alone," mused Jeanne, her lip
curling in self-contempt. "I don't believe that girls amount to much after
all."

"'We are marching to the field, boys,
Going to the fight,
Shouting the battle cry of freedom!
And we'll bear the glorious Stars
Of