A twinge of pain awakened the colonel and he looked up, dazed and uncomprehending.  Miss Lou bent over him and said gently, “Go to sleep again.  It’s all right.”

“Oh, I remember now.  You are Miss Baron.”

“Yes, but don’t try to talk; just sleep now that you can.”

He smiled and yielded.

A few moments later Maynard came forward and said, “Miss Baron, your arm must be tired.  Let me take your place.”

Now she rewarded him by a smile.  “I will be glad if you can,” she replied softly, “not that I am very tired, but there are so many others.”

As she moved away, she saw Surgeon Ackley beckoning to her.  “Miss Baron,” he said, “I am going to put one of my patients especially in your and your aunt’s charge.  Young as he is, he is a hero and an unusual character.  I have had him moved to a tent, for he is in a very critical condition.  Indeed, his chances for life are few and he knows it.  I am acquainted with his family—­one of the best in the South.”

He led the way to a small tent beneath the shade of a wide-branched oak.  A stretcher had been extemporized into a camp bed and on it lay a youth not older apparently than the girl herself.  His face had the blood-drained look which many will remember, yet was still fine in its strong, boyish lines.  The down on his upper lip was scarcely more deeply defined than his straight eyebrows.  A negro attendant sat near fanning him, and Miss Lou first thought that he was asleep.  As she approached with the surgeon he opened his eyes with the dazed expression so common when the brain is enfeebled from loss of blood.  At first they seemed almost opaque and dead in their blackness, but, as if a light were approaching from within, they grew bright and laughing.  His smile showed his white, even teeth slightly, and her look of deep commiseration passed into one of wonder as she saw his face growing positively radiant with what seemed to her a strange kind of happiness, as he glanced back and forth from her to the surgeon.  Feebly he raised his finger to his lips as if to say, “I can’t speak.”

“That’s right, Waldo; don’t try to talk yet.  This is Miss Baron.  She will be one of your nurses and will feed you with the best of soup.  We’ll bring you round yet.”

He shook his head and smiled more genially, then tried to extend his hand to the girl, looking his welcome and acceptance of her ministry.  So joyous was his expression that she could not help smiling in return, but it was the questioning, doubtful smile of one who did not understand.

“When she comes,” resumed Ackley, “take what she gives you, but don’t talk until I give permission.  That will do now.  You must take everything except quiet in small quantities at first.”

His lips formed the words “All right,” and smilingly he watched them depart.

“I suppose he is not exactly in his right mind,” said Miss Lou as she and the surgeon returned to the house.