VIII.

Ten minutes later Colonel Stafford, with a steady step and a proud carriage, and with his hand resting on Bob’s shoulder, walked out into the hall. He was dressed in the uniform of a Confederate major, which fitted admirably his tall, erect figure.

“General Denby, I believe,” he said, as the Union officer rose and faced him. “We have met before under somewhat different circumstances,” he said, with a bow, “for I now find myself your prisoner.”

“I have the honor to request your parole,” said the General, with great politeness, “and to express the hope that I may be able in some way to return the courtesy which I formerly received at your hands.” He extended his hand and Colonel Stafford took it.

“You have my parole,” said he.

“I was not aware,” said the General, with a bow toward Mrs. Stafford, “until I entered the room where your children were sleeping, that I had the honor of your husband’s acquaintance. I will now take my leave and return to camp, that I may not by my presence interfere with the joy of this season.”

“I desire to introduce to you my son,” said Colonel Stafford, proudly presenting Bob. “He is a hero.”

The General bowed as he shook hands with him. Perhaps he had some suspicion how true a hero he was, for he rested his hand kindly on the boy’s head, but he said nothing.

Both Colonel and Mrs. Stafford invited the old soldier to spend the night there, but he declined. He, however, accepted an invitation to dine with them next day.

Before leaving, he requested permission to take one more look at the sleeping children. Over Evelyn he bent silently. Suddenly stooping, he kissed her little pink cheek, and with a scarcely audible “Good-night,” passed out of the room and left the house.

The next morning, by light, there was great rejoicing. Charlie and Evelyn were up betimes, and were laughing and chattering over their presents like two little magpies.

“Here’s my sword and here’s my breeches,” cried Charlie, “two pair; but I’m goin’ to put on my gray ones. I ain’t goin’ to wear a blue uniform.”

“Here’s my dolly!” screamed Evelyn, in an ecstasy over her beautiful present. And presently Bob and Ran burst in, their eyes fairly dancing.

“Christmas gift! It’s a real one--real gold!” cried Bob, holding up a small gold watch, whilst Ran was shouting over a silver one of the same size.

That evening, after dinner, General Denby was sitting by the fire in the Holly Hill parlor, with Evelyn nestled in his lap, her dolly clasped close to her bosom, and in the absence of Colonel Stafford, told Mrs. Stafford the story of the opening of the package by the camp-fire. The tears welled up into Mrs. Stafford’s eyes and ran down her cheeks.

Charlie suddenly entered, in all the majesty of his new breeches, and sword buckled on hip. He saw his mother’s tears. His little face flushed. In a second his sword was out, and he struck a hostile attitude.

“You sha’n’t make my mamma cry!” he shouted.

“Charlie! Charlie!” cried Mrs. Stafford, hastening to stop him.

“My papa said I was not to let any one make you cry,” insisted the boy, stepping before his mother, and still keeping his angry eyes on the General.

“Oh, Charlie!” Mrs. Stafford took hold of him. “I am ashamed of you!--to be so rude!”

“Let him alone, madam,” said the General. “It is not rudeness; it is spirit--the spirit of our race. He has the soldier’s blood, and some day he will be a soldier himself, and a brave one. I shall count on him for the Union,” he said, with a smile.

Mrs. Stafford shook her head.

A few days later, Colonel Stafford, in accordance with an understanding, came over to General Denby’s camp, and reported to be sent on to Washington as a prisoner of war. The General was absent on the lines at the time, but was expected soon, and the Colonel waited for him at his headquarters. There had been many tears shed when his wife bade him good-by.

About an hour after the Colonel arrived, the General and his staff were riding back to camp along the road which ran by the Holly Hill gate. Just before they reached it, two little figures came out of the gate and started down the road. One was a boy of five, who carried a toy sword, drawn, in one hand, whilst with the other he led his companion, a little girl of three, who clasped a large yellow-haired doll to her breast.

The soldiers cantered forward and overtook them.

“Where are you going, my little people?” inquired the General, gazing down at them affectionately.

“I’m goin’ to get my papa,” said the tiny swordsman firmly, turning a sturdy and determined little face up to him. “My mamma’s cryin’, an’ I’m goin’ to take my papa home. I ain’ goin’ to let the Yankees have him.”

The officers all broke into a murmur of mingled admiration and amusement.

“No, we ain’ goin’ let the Yankees have our papa,” chimed in Evelyn, pushing her tangled hair out of her eyes, and keeping fast hold of Charlie’s hand for fear of the horses around her.

The General dismounted.

“How are you going to help, my little Semiramis?” he asked, stooping over her with smiling eyes.

“I’m goin’ to give my dolly if they will give me my papa,” she said, gravely, as if she understood the equality of the exchange.

“Suppose you give a kiss instead?” There was a second of hesitation, and then she put up her little face, and the old General dropped on one knee in the road and lifted her in his arms, doll and all.

“Gentlemen,” he said to his staff, “you behold the future defenders of the Union.”

The little ones were coaxed home, and that afternoon, as Colonel Stafford was expecting to leave the camp for Washington with a lot of prisoners, a despatch was brought in to General Denby, who read it.

“Colonel,” he said, addressing him, “I think I shall have to continue your parole a few days longer. I have just received information that, by a special cartel which I have arranged, you are to be exchanged for Colonel McDowell as soon as he can reach the lines at this point from Richmond; and meantime, as we have but indifferent accommodations here, I shall have to request you to consider Holly Hill as your place of confinement. Will you be so kind as to convey my respects to Mrs. Stafford, and to your young hero Bob, and make good my word to those two little commissioners of exchange, to whom I feel somewhat committed? I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.”

[Illustration: “WHAT YOU CHILDREN GWINE DO WID DAT LITTLE CAT?” ASKED MAMMY, SEVERELY.]

KITTYKIN, AND THE PART SHE PLAYED IN THE WAR.