“Are you so tired, Daddy-man?”

“Yes, dear,” he answered with a faint smile as he opened his eyes.  “I had to catch my breath, but I’m really all right.  Now then, we’ll call in the hospital corps.”

Virgie slipped down and sat on the top of the wall with her foot in her hand, rocking to and fro, but bravely saying nothing until her father’s eye caught the look of pain on her pinched face.

“Does it hurt you much, dear?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.  It—­it hurts like the mischief,” answered Virgie in a small voice.  “It keeps jumping up and down.”

“Little woman, that’s too bad,” he said with a consoling pat on the head which seemed to take most of the pain away.  “But after we bathe it and tie it up it will feel better.”

Kneeling beside the spring he took off his campaign hat of felt and dipped it full of clear, cold water.

“Wow!” cried Virgie suddenly in the interval and she slapped her leg with a resounding whack.  “There are ‘skeeters roun’ this place.  One of ’em bit me—­an old he one.  Jiminy!”

“Did he?” asked her father, smiling as he came back with the hat.  “Well, honey, there are much worse things in this world than those little fellows and if you don’t complain any more than that you’re going to be a very happy lady when you grow up.”

“Like Mamma?” asked the little tot, with a thoughtful face.

“Just like Mamma,” the man repeated.  “The loveliest—­the bravest—­and the best.”  He wavered a little on his feet and the hat threatened to slip through his fingers, but his daughter’s great, dark eyes were steady on his and, curiously enough, he seemed to draw strength to pull himself together.

“And now, let’s see.  We’ll have to get the grime off first.  Just dip the little wounded soldier in.”

“What!  My foot in your hat!” protested Virgie with a little scream.  “Oh, you poor daddy!”

“Why, that’s all right, honey,” he laughed, pleased at her daintiness.  “That hat’s an old veteran.  He don’t mind anything.  So—­souse her in.

“There—­easy now—­easy” as she threatened to capsize this curious basin.  “Big toe first.

“Yes, I know it’s cold,” he laughed as the water stung the broken skin and made her twitch involuntarily, “but bathing will do it good.  I just know it feels better already—­doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Virgie meekly, “only—­it jumps up and down harder than ever.  But of course I know it must be getting better.”

“Good!  What did I tell you?  Now let Daddy look.”

He lifted her foot up tenderly and examined it with care.  “My, my!” he murmured.  “You poor little soldier.  If I hadn’t looked around that time I expect you’d been willing to walk all the way to Richmond on a foot that would make a whole regiment straggle.  Just see where you’ve cut it—­right under the second little piggie.  We’ll have to tie it right up and keep the bothersome old dust from getting in.  By morning you’ll hardly feel it.”