"Yes, to some extent; they trust no one."
"That was the whole trouble. Seemingly they possessed but one idea—that if my father was killed they could remain where they were indefinitely. Their single instinct was to fight it out with rifles. They refused to either purchase or leave.
There was silence, as though she had finished, and I was endeavoring to connect this revelation of affairs, in my own mind, with the known occurrences of the past few days. She had seated herself on the wide arm of the chair, still facing me, and I could hear the rain beating hard against the side of the house. Suddenly she looked up into my face.
"How odd that I should talk to you so freely," she exclaimed. "Why I do not even know your name."
"It was written in the papers."
"But I did not look—what is it, please?"
"Charles H. Raymond."
I could not be certain that the expression of her eyes changed, for they suddenly looked away from me, and she stood again upon her feet.
"Raymond, you say!" the slightest hardening of tone apparent, "on recruiting service from the Army of the Potomac?" She drew a quick breath. "I—I think I have heard the name before. Would you mind if I did ask to see your orders?"
