noon-day mail occupied their time for but a scant hour more, and an
attempted game of cribbage speedily dropped by unspoken but mutual
consent.

Suddenly the garden gate creaked. The lieutenant sprang to his feet,
looked out of the window, and exclaimed:

"It's her darkey--he's got an answer--oh, major!"

"Steady, boy, steady!" said the major, arising hastily and laying his
hand on the young man's shoulder, as that excited person was hastening
to the door. "'Officer and gentleman,' you know. Let Sam open the door."

The bell rang, the door was opened, a word or two passed between the two
servants, and Mrs. Wittleday's coachman appeared in the dining-room,
holding the letter. The lieutenant eagerly reached for it, but the sable
carrier grinned politely, said:

"It's for de major, sar--wuz told to give it right into his han's, and
nobody else," fulfilled his instructions, and departed with many bows
and smiles, while the two soldiers dropped into their respective chairs.

"Hurry up, major--do, please," whispered the lieutenant. But the veteran
seemed an interminably long time in opening the dainty envelope in his
hand. Official communications he opened with a dexterity suggesting
sleight-of-hand, but now he took a penknife from his pocket, opened its
smallest, brightest blade, and carefully cut Mrs. Wittleday's envelope.
As he opened the letter his lower jaw fell, and his eyes opened wide. He
read the letter through, and re-read it, his countenance indicating
considerable satisfaction, which presently was lost in an expression of