consultation Monday night, said the gossips, and something new had been discovered,—­no one knew just what,—­and the toils had settled upon Jerrold’s handsome head, and now he was to be tried.  As usual in such cases, the news came in through the kitchen, and most officers heard it at the breakfast-table from the lips of their better halves, who could hardly find words to express their sentiments as to the inability of their lords to explain the new phase of the situation.  When the first sergeant of Company B came around to Captain Armitage with the sick-book, soon after six in the morning, the captain briefly directed him to transfer Lieutenant Jerrold on the morning report from present for duty to “in arrest,” and no sooner was it known at the quarters of Company B than it began to work back to Officers’ Row through the medium of the servants and strikers.

It was the sole topic of talk for a full hour.  Many ladies who had intended going to town by the early train almost perilled their chances of catching the same in their eagerness to hear further details.

But the shriek of the whistle far up the valley broke up the group that was so busily chatting and speculating over in the quadrangle, and, with shy yet curious eyes, the party of at least a dozen—­matrons and maids, wives or sisters of the officers—­scurried past the darkened windows of Mr. Jerrold’s quarters, and through the mysterious passage west of the colonel’s silent house, and down the long stairs, just in time to catch the train that whirled them away city-ward almost as soon as it had disgorged the morning’s mail.  Chatting and laughing, and full of blithe anticipation of the glories of the coming german, in preparation for which most of their number had found it necessary to run in for just an hour’s shopping, they went jubilantly on their way.  Shopping done, they would all meet, take luncheon together at the “Woman’s Exchange,” return to the post by the afternoon train, and have plenty of time for a little nap before dressing for the german.  Perhaps the most interesting question now up for discussion was, who would lead with Mr. Rollins?  The train went puffing into the crowded depot:  the ladies hastened forth, and in a moment were on the street; cabs and carriages were passed in disdain; a brisk walk of a block carried them to the main thoroughfare and into the heart of the shopping district; a rush of hoofs and wheels and pedestrians there encountered them, and the roar assailed their sensitive and unaccustomed ears, yet high above it all pierced and pealed the shrill voices of the newsboys darting here and there with their eagerly-bought journals.  But women bent on germans and shopping have time and ears for no such news as that which demands the publication of extras.  Some of them never hear or heed the cry, “Indian Massacree!” “Here y’are!  All about the killin’ of Major Thornton an’ his sojers!” “Extry!—­extry!” It is not until they reach the broad portals of the