s clad
in the blue uniform of the United States lying upon the ground. Without
a thought but that one of the soldiers was suffering Jeanne sprang to
his side and knelt beside him.

"What is it?" she cried. "Are you hurt?"

"Just faint," murmured the young man in a weak voice, and the girl noted
with surprise the Southern accent. "I'll be all right in a moment."

"Smell this." Jeanne thrust her bottle of smelling salts under his nose,
and began to chafe his forehead vigorously. "There! You're better now,
aren't you?"

"Much better." The young fellow struggled to a sitting posture and smiled
wanly. "What a good little thing you are!"

"Well, I like soldiers," said Jeanne. "My brother, Dick, is one, and
whenever I see a soldier suffering I always want to do something for him.
You are fighting for us, you know. Are you sick?"

"No; but I have been. I just came out of the hospital a few days ago, and
I am not so strong as I thought."

"You should go home and stay until you get well," said the girl with a
quaint assumption of maternal authority.

"Home! I have none." The young man's brow darkened. "If I were to go to my
home, I would be spurned from its doors."

"But why?" cried Jeanne.

"Listen, and you shall hear, child. I am a native of the state of
Louisiana. I was educated at West Point, and when the war broke out had
just graduated. You know the conditions under which we are entered, do you
not?"

Jeanne shook her head.

"We are to serve the country four years for the education given, so when
the war came I felt it my duty to give those four years. I went to my
father and told him so briefly. 'Never darken my door again while you
wear that uniform,' he said. 'You are no son of mine if you side in with
a horde of miscreants sent to invade the sacred soil of the South.' I told
him that it was my duty. That I had but just graduated and that my honor
demanded that I should repay my debt to the government, but he would not
listen. So I left him."

"But have you no friends?" asked Jeanne, her face aglow with compassion.

"Friends? No; they fight on the other side," was the bitter reply. "And
what do these Yankees care for me? They don't realize what I have given
up."

"But we do care," cried the girl. "My father and mother just love
soldiers. Oh, if you would only go to them they would care for you. Do
go. Will you?"

A smile lighted up the young man's face as he noted her warmth.

"I wish all your peop