mima, I wouldn't tell anybody else--no, not for anything--but I
cert'n'y am awful scared!"

There came a scurrying rush, a command to halt, and a rustling,
scraping noise of dismounting men; a pause, and the sharp, loud rap of a
saber hilt against the door. Virgie breathed hard, but made no answer.

"Open up!" called a voice outside, but the little rebel closed her lips
and sat staring at Susan Jemima across the table. A silence followed,
short, yet filled with dread; then came a low-toned order and the crash
of carbine butts on the stout oak door. For a time it resisted
hopefully, then slowly its top sagged in, with a groaning, grating
protest from its rusty hinges; it swayed, collapsed in a cloud of
dust--and the enemy swept over it.

They came with a rush; in the lead an officer, a naked saber in his
fist, followed by a squad of grim-faced troopers, each with his carbine
cocked and ready for discharge. Yet, as suddenly as they had come, they
halted now at the sight of a little lady, seated at table, eating
berries, as calmly as though the dogs of war had never even growled.

A wondering silence followed, till broken by a piping voice, in grave
but courteous reproof:

"I--I don't think you are very polite."

The officer in command was forced to smile.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he apologized; "but am afraid, this time, I can't
quite help it." He glanced at the door of the adjoining room and turned
to his waiting men, though speaking in an undertone: "He's in there, I
guess. Don't fire if you can help it--on account of the baby. Now then!
Steady, boys! Advance!"

He led the way, six troopers following, while the rest remained behind
to guard the cabin's open door. Virgie slowly turned her head, with eyes
that watched the officer's every move; then presently she called:

"Hey, there! That's _my_ room--an' don't you-all bother any of my
things, either!"

This one command, at least, was implicitly obeyed, for in a moment the
disappointed squad returned. The carbine butts were grounded; the
troopers stood at orderly attention, while their officer stepped toward
the table.

"What's your name, little monkey?"

Virgie raised her eyes in swift reproach.

"I don't like to be called a monkey. It--it isn't respectful."

The Union soldier laughed.

"O-ho! I see." He touched his hat and made her a sweeping bow. "A
thousand pardons, Mademoiselle." He shot his sword into its scabbard,
and laughed again. "Might I inquir