"I dare you to touch it, coward, poltroon!" cried the girl, her plump little figure bristling in front of her lover.
Ben laid his hand on her arm and gently drew her back to his side: "He has the power to do this. It is a technical violation of law to wear them. I have surrendered. I am a gentleman and I have been a soldier. He can have his tribute. I've promised my father to offer no violence to the military authority of the United States."
He stepped forward, and the officer cut the buttons from his coat and ripped the straps from his shoulders.
While the performance was going on, Ben quietly said:
"General Grant at Appomattox, with the instincts of a great soldier, gave our men his spare horses and ordered that Confederate officers retain their side-arms. The General is evidently not in touch with this force."
"No; I'm in command in this county," said the Captain.
"Evidently."
When he had gone, Elsie's eyes were dim. They strolled under the shadow of the great oak and stood in silence, listening to the music within and the distant murmur of the falls.
"Why is it, sweetheart, that a girl will persist in admiring brass buttons?" Ben asked, softly.
She raised her lips to his for a kiss and answered:
"Because a soldier's business is to die for his country."
As Ben led her back into the ball-room and surrendered her to a friend for a dance, the first gun pealed its note of victory from the square in the celebration of the triumph of the African slave over his white master.
