So thought Miss Lou herself.  In her weariness and sense of security she had slept soundly till the light grew distinct, when the birds wakened her.  With consciousness memory quickly reproduced what had occurred.  She sprang to the window and peeped through the blinds in time to see Scoville rise from his bivouac and throw aside his blanket.  With a soldier’s promptness he aroused his men and began giving orders, the tenor of one being that a scouting party should prepare to go out immediately.

“Oh!” she sighed, “if I had such a brother what a happy girl I might be!  I don’t believe I’d ever care to marry.”

She was far from being a soft-natured, susceptible girl, and while Scoville kindled her imagination and had won her trust, she did not think of him as a lover.  Indeed, the very word had become hateful to her, associating it as she did with her cousin and the idea of selfish appropriation.  More strongly than any slave on the plantation, she longed for freedom, and the belief that the Union officer understood her, respecting her rights and feelings, won him all the favor she was then capable of bestowing upon any one.  If he had employed his brief opportunity in gallantry and love-making she would have been disgusted.  “I never met any one like him,” she soliloquized as she hastily dressed.  “It’s so strange to find one willing I should be a little bit happy in my own way, who is not ‘seeking my best welfare,’ as uncle says.  Welfare, indeed!  As if I couldn’t see some wish or scheme of their own back of all they say or do!  His dark eyes declare, ’I wish you well whether you are useful to me or not.’  Well, I am glad I’ve known him, whether I ever see him again or not.  He has made my course much clearer.”

The inmates of the mansion as well as those without were soon busy in their preparations for a day which all felt must be eventful.  That the “millenyum” had not come was soon proved by the commencement of hostilities on the part of Mrs. Baron and Scoville.  The latter was approaching the kitchen to interview Aun’ Suke when “ole miss” appeared.

“Madam,” he said, lifting his hat, “will you kindly direct your cook to prepare a breakfast immediately for the wounded?  It should be light as well as nutritious, for some are feverish.”

She paid no more attention to him than if he had not spoken, and entered Aun’ Suke’s domain.  There was a mirthful flash in his dark eyes as he followed her.  When she saw him standing in the doorway, her cold stare, more clearly than words, designated him “intruder.”  He steadily returned her gaze, and Aun’ Suke, who had been shouting over freedom the night before, now had the temerity to quiver in all her vast proportions with amusement.

“Madam,” resumed Scoville, removing his hat, “will you give my orders, or shall I?”

“Your orders, sir! and in my kitchen!”

“Certainly, madam, and my orders in this instance are simply the dictates of humanity.”