fill
up. This one for your daddy--you can put the sugar in. Only don't burn
those precious fingers."

Virgie carried the steaming cup to her father and put it in his hands
with shining eyes.

"This is better than our old belt supper, Daddy, isn't it?" she said,
with a flirt of her tangled curls. "Anyway--it _smells_ nicer."

She was back at the sugar bag at once, digging out spoonfuls for
Morrison's coffee.

"Thank you, Miss Cary, I am indeed obliged to you. Now do sit down and
_eat_. No, not another word till you've eaten two whole biscuits!"

For several ecstatic moments the child munched her biscuits. It had been
a long time since she had eaten anything so delicious, although if those
same biscuits had appeared on the Cary table a month ago they would have
probably been scorned. But eager as her appetite was it did not stop the
active workings of her mind and she presently was struck by an idea
which tried to force itself out through a mouthful of biscuit--with the
usual amusing results.

"_Virginia!_" admonished her father.

Morrison laughed out like a boy and slapped his knee.

"Suppose we swallow--and try again."

Virgie, thus adjured, concentrated her mind on the task--gulped,
blinked, swallowed with pathetically straining eyes, and then smiled
triumphantly.

"Excuse me, Daddy. I guess I wasn't very polite."

"Apology accepted. What were you going to say?"

The child looked up with a sweetly serious look in her eyes that the two
men recognized as the forerunner of true womanly thought for others.

"I was only goin' to ask the Colonel if he didn't think his men out
there would like some of these _heavingly_ things to eat?" she said
plaintively. "It must be terrible--jus' to look on!"

"Well, bless your little heart," the Northerner cried. "But don't you
worry about the boys. They'll have theirs when they get back to camp. Go
on and eat, Virgie. Stuff in another biscuit. And, look! By Jupiter.
_Butter!_"

Evidently Trooper O'Connell during the past twenty-four hours had
foraged or blarneyed most successfully for out of the knapsack which he
had left behind Morrison suddenly produced a small earthenware jam jar
in which was something now indubitably liquid in form but none the less
sweet, yellow, appetizing butter. Pouring a little on a biscuit he held
it out to her, speculating on what she would say.

The tot took it hungrily and raised it to her lips, her eyes shining and
her face glowing wit