d the clue in the blue yarn
which I held in my hand. I little knew what I undertook. Kate was shy as
a wild deer, timid as a fawn, with an atmosphere of reserve about her
which one could not well break through.

'For whom are you knitting those stockings, Miss Kate?' I asked.

'For a soldier, Mr. Armstrong,' she replied, her eye kindling with
patriotism.

'If I will be one of the Home Guards, and stay and take care of you,
will you knit me a pair?'

'Never. I feel abundantly able to take care of myself. I wish you would
enlist, Mr. Armstrong. When you do, I will knit you a pair.'

'It would be almost worth the sacrifice,' I replied.

'Sacrifice! Would you sacrifice yourself for a pair of stockings? Have
you not patriotism enough to offer yourself upon the altar of your
country? If I were a man, I would enlist in a moment, though I had ten
thousand a year, and a wife and seven children.'

I will confess to you, gentle reader, that I was not such a craven as I
appeared. The fires of patriotism were smouldering in my bosom, and I
needed only a spark from Kate's hand to light them into life and action.
Kate rose and left the room, her cheek glowing with spirit, and I sat
and fanned the chair where she had sat, for a few moments. It was too
bad to break up the delicious _tete-a-tete_ so soon.

I lingered in the parlor after the gas was lighted, but she did not
come. I put on my hat, and went out. I would enlist. I had meant to do
so all along. I had managed my business in reference to it--the only
drawback was the thought of Kate. How pleasant it would be to remind her
of her promise, and ask her for the stockings and herself with them!
Visions of tender partings and interesting letters floated around me at
the thought.

There was a meeting in Tremont Temple in aid of recruiting. Flags hung
drooping from the ceiling, bands of music were in attendance in the
galleries, and distinguished and eloquent speakers occupied the
platform. I do not think their eloquence had much to do with my action,
for I had resolved beforehand. I went forward at the close of the
meeting, and signed my name to the roll as a Massachusetts volunteer. A
pair of hands in the gallery began the thunder of applause that greeted
the act. I looked up; Kate was there, clapping enthusiastically. But who
was that tall fellow in uniform by her side, with a tremendous mustache,
and eyes which flashed brighter than her own? He, then, was the soldier
for