but you wouldn’t ever think of this.”
“Certainly I shall not, unless you tell me.”
“Well, I have been to see the President.”
“The President – Mr. Davis!”
“Yes.”
“And what did you go to see the President for?”
“I asked him for an appointment for Captain Thorne.”
“For Captain Thorne! My dear – ”
“Yes, mother, for the War Department Telegraph Service. And he gave it to me, a special commission. He gave it to me for father’s sake and for Captain Thorne’s sake, – he has met him and likes him, – and for my own.”
“What sort of an appointment?”
“Appointing him to duty here in Richmond, a very important position. He won’t be sent to the front, and he will be doing his duty just the same.”
“But, Edith, you don’t – you can’t – ”
“Yes, it will, mother. The President, – I just love him, – told me they needed a man who understood telegraphing and who was of high enough rank to take charge of the service. As you know, most of the telegraph operators are privates, and Captain Thorne is an expert. Since he’s been here in Richmond he’s helped them in the telegraph office often. Lieutenant Foray told me so.”
Mrs. Varney rose and moved away. Edith followed her.
“Now, mamma!” she exclaimed; “I feel you are going to scold me, and you must not, because it’s all fixed and the commission will be sent over here in a few minutes – just as soon as it can be made out – and when it comes I am going to give it to him myself.”
Mrs. Varney moved over toward the table and lifted a piece of paper, evidently a note.
“He is coming this evening,” she said.
“How do you know?” asked her daughter.
“Well, for one thing,” said her mother, “I can remember very few evenings when he hasn’t been here since he was able to walk out of the hospital.”
“Mamma!”
“And for another thing, this note came about half an hour ago.”
“Is it for me?”
“For me, my dear, else I shouldn’t have opened it. You can read it, if you like.”
“Has it been here all this time?” exclaimed Edith jealously.
“All this time. You will see what he says. This will be his last call; he has his orders to leave.”
“Why, it’s too ridiculous!” said the girl; “just as if the commission from the President wouldn’t supersede everything else. It puts him at the head of the Telegraph Service. He will be in command of the Department. He says it is a good-bye call, does he?” She looked at the note again and laughed, “All the better, it will be that much more of a surprise. Now, mamma, don’t you breathe a word about it, I want to tell him myself.”
“But, Edith dear – I am sorry to criticise you – but I don’t at all approve of your going to the President about this. It doesn’t seem quite the proper thing for a young lady to interest herself so far – ”
“But listen, mamma,” and as she spoke the light went out of Miss Edith’s face at her mother’s grave and somewhat reproving aspect. “I couldn’t go to the War Department people. Mr. Arrelsford is there in one of the offices, and ever since I – I refused him, you know how he has treated me! If I had applied for anything there, it would have been refused at once, and he would have got them to order Captain Thorne away right off. I know he would – why, that is where his orders came from!”
“But, my dear – ”
“That is where they came from. Isn’t it lucky I got that commission to-day. There’s the bell; I wonder who it can be?” She stopped and listened while the door opened and Jonas, the butler, entered. “Is it Captain Thorne?” asked Edith eagerly.
“No, ma’am.”
“Oh!”
“It’s another offisuh, ma’am. He says he’s fum de President an’ he’s got to see Miss Edith pussonally.”
Jonas extended a card which, as he spoke, Edith took and glanced at indifferently.
“Lieutenant Maxwell,” she read.
“Ask the gentleman in, Jonas,” said Mrs. Varney.
“It’s come,” whispered Edith to her mother.
“Do you know who he is?”
“No – but he’s from the President – it must be that commission.”
At this moment old Jonas ushered into the drawing-room a very dashing young officer, handsome in face, gallant in bearing, and dressed in a showy and perfectly fitting uniform, which was quite a contrast to the worn habiliments of the men at the front. Mrs. Varney stepped forward a little, and Lieutenant Maxwell bowed low before her.
“Good-evening, ma’am. Have I the honour of addressing Miss Varney?”
“I am Mrs. Varney, sir.”
“Madam,” said the Lieutenant, “I am very much afraid this looks like an intrusion on my part, but I come from the President, and he desires me to see Miss Varney personally.”
“Any one from the President could not be otherwise than welcome, sir. This is my daughter. Edith, let me present Lieutenant Maxwell.”
The young Lieutenant, greatly impressed, bowed profoundly before her, and taking a large brown envelope from his belt, handed it to her.
“Miss Varney,” he said, “the President directed me to deliver this into your hands, with his compliments. He is glad to be able to do this, he says, not only at your request, but because of your father and for the merits of the gentleman in question.”
“Oh, thank you,” cried the girl, taking the envelope.
“Won’t you be seated, Lieutenant Maxwell?” said Mrs. Varney.
“Yes, do,” urged the girl, holding the envelope pressed very tightly to her side.
“Nothing would please me so much, ladies,” answered the Lieutenant, “but I must go back to the President’s house right away. I’m on duty this evening. Would you mind writing me off a line or two, Miss Varney, just to say you have received the communication?”
“Why, certainly, you want a receipt. I’ll go upstairs to my desk; it won’t take a moment. And could I put in how much I thank him for his kindness?”
“I am sure he would be more than, pleased,” smiled Lieutenant Maxwell, as Edith left the room and hastened up the stairs.
“We haven’t heard so much cannonading to-day, Lieutenant,” said Mrs. Varney.
