attending to the light duties of the position, the surgeon being practically the superior officer.  Order was quickly restored, guards set at important points, and the strangely assorted little community passed speedily under a simple yet rigorous military government.  Curiosity, desire of gain, as well as sympathy, led people to flock to the plantation from far and near.  One of Surgeon Ackley’s first steps was to impress upon all the need of provisions, for Mr. Baron’s larder, ample as it had been, was speedily exhausted.  During the day began the transfer of the slightly wounded to the nearest railroad town, where supplies could be obtained with more certainty, and it was evident that the policy of abandoning the remote plantation as soon as possible had been adopted.

Miss Lou knew nothing of this, and simply became absorbed in successive tasks for the time being.

“Miss Baron,” said Surgeon Ackley, “a number of the men are so disabled that they cannot feed themselves.  Proper food at the right time usually means life.”

These words suggested what became one of her principal duties.  At first, rough men were surprised and grateful indeed to find fair young girl kneeling beside them with a bowl of hot soup; then they began to look for her and welcome her as one who evoked their best and most chivalrous feelings.  It had soon been evident to her that the wounded officers in the house would receive the most careful attention from the regularly appointed attendants and also from Mrs. Whately.  With the exception of the old colonel, she gradually began to devote the most of her time to the enlisted men, finding among them much less embarrassment in her labors.  With the latter class among the Confederates, there was not on either side a consciousness of social equality or an effort to maintain its amenities.  The relation was the simple one of kindness bestowed and received.

The girl made the acquaintance of the Union wounded with feelings in which doubt, curiosity and sympathy were strangely blended.  Her regard for Scoville added to her peculiar interest in his compatriots.  They were the enemies of whom she had heard so much, having been represented as more alien and foreign than if they had come across the seas and spoke a different tongue.  How they would receive her had been an anxious query from the first, but she quickly learned that her touch of kindness made them kin—­that they welcomed her in the same spirit as did her own people, while they also were animated by like curiosity and wondering interest in regard to herself.  A woman’s presence in a field hospital was in itself strange and unexpected.  That this woman should be a Southern girl, whose lovely features were gentle in commiseration, instead of rigid from an imperious sense of duty to foes, was a truth scarcely accepted at first.  Its fuller comprehension began to evoke a homage which troubled the girl.  She was too simple and honest to accept such return for what seemed the natural offices of humanity; yet, while her manner and words checked its expression, they only deepened the feeling.