After this it was pretty well understood that the Baby Veterans and
Middleburgh were at war. The regulations were more strictly enforced
than ever before, and for a while it looked as if it was going to be as
bad as it was when the other regiment was there. Old Limpid, the old
doctor’s man, was caught one night with some letters on his person,
several of them addressed to “Captain Harry Hunter, Army of Northern
Virginia,” etc., and was somewhat severely dealt with, though, perhaps
fortunately for him and his master, the letters, one of which was in
a feminine hand, whilst abusive of the soldiers, did not contain any
information which justified very severe measures, and after a warning
he was set free again.
Nancy Pansy’s sister Ellen was enraged next day to receive again her
letter from a corporal’s guard, indorsed with an official stamp,
“Returned by order,” etc. She actually cried about it.
Nancy Pansy had written a letter to Harry, too--not her own Harry, but
the old doctor’s--and hers came back also; but she did not cry about
it, for she had forgotten to tell Harry that she had a kitten.
Still it was very bad; for after that even the old doctor was once more
subjected to the strict regulations which had existed before the Baby
Veterans came, and he could no longer drive in and out at will, as he
and Nancy Pansy had been doing since the regiment arrived.
It was not, however, long after this that Nancy Pansy had quite an
adventure. She and Harry had been with the old doctor, and the old
doctor had to go and see some children with the measles, so, as Harry
had never had measles, he sent her and Nancy Pansy back; but Nancy
Pansy had found an old cigar-box, which was a treasure, and would have
made a splendid cradle for Harry, except that it was so short that
when Harry’s legs were put into it, her head and shoulders stuck up,
and when her body was in it, her legs hung out. Still, if it would not
do for a cradle, she had got a piece of string, and it would do for a
carriage. So she was coming home very cheerfully, thinking of the way
Harry would enjoy her ride down the walk.
It was just at this time that Tom Adams, feeling thoroughly bored with
his surroundings, left camp and sauntered up the street alone, planning
how he could get his company ordered once more to the front. He could
not stand this life any longer. As he strolled along the walk the sound
of the cheerful voices of girls behind the magnolias and rose bowers
came to him, and a wave of homesickness swept over him as he thought of
his sisters and little nieces away up North.
Suddenly, as he turned a corner, he saw a small figure walking slowly
along before him; the great straw hat on the back of her head almost
concealed the little body, but her sunny hair was peeping down below
the broad brim, and Adams knew the child.
She carried under her arm an old cigar-box, out of one end of which
peeped the head and shoulders of an old doll, the feet of which stuck
out of the other end. A string hung from the box, and trailed behind
her on the pathway. She appeared to be very busy about something, and
to be perfectly happy, for as she walked along she was singing out of
her content a wordless little song of her heart, “Tra-la-la, tra-la-la.”
The young officer fell into the same gait with the child, and
instinctively trod softly to keep from disturbing her. Just then,
however, a burly fellow named Griff O’Meara, who had belonged to one
of the companies which preceded them, and had been transferred to
Adams’s company, came down a side street, and turned into the walkway
just behind the little maid. He seemed to be tipsy. The trailing string
caught his eye, and he tipped forward and tried to step on it. Adams
did not take in what the fellow was trying to do until he attempted it
the second time. Then he called to him, but it was too late; he had
stepped on the cord, and jerked the box, doll and all, from the child’s
arm. The doll fell, face down, on a stone and broke to pieces. The man
gave a great laugh, as the little girl turned, with a cry of anguish,
and stooping, began to pick up the fragments, weeping in a low, pitiful
way. In a second Adams sprang forward, and struck the fellow a blow
between the eyes which sent him staggering off the sidewalk, down in
the road, flat on his back. He rose with an oath, but Adams struck him
a second blow which laid him out again, and the fellow, finding him to
be an officer, was glad to slink off. Adams then turned to the child,
whose tears, which had dried for a moment in her alarm at the fight,
now began to flow again over her doll.
“Her pretty head’s all broke! Oh--oh--oh!” she sobbed, trying vainly to
get the pieces to fit into something like a face.
The young officer sat down on the ground by her. “Never mind, sissy,”
he said, soothingly, “let me see if I can help you.”
She confidingly handed him the fragments, whilst she tried to stifle
her sobs, and wiped her eyes with her little pinafore.
“Can you do it?” she asked, dolefully, behind her pinafore.
“I hope so. What’s your name?”
“Nancy Pansy, and my dolly’s named Harry.”
“Harry!” Tom looked at the doll’s dress and the fragments of face,
which certainly were not masculine.
“Yes, Harry Hunter. He’s my sweetheart,” she looked at him to see that
he understood her.
“Ah!”
“And sister’s,” she nodded, confidently.
“Yes, I see. Where is he?”
“He’s a captain now. He’s gone away--away.” She waved her hand in a
wide sweep to give an idea of the great distance it was. “He’s in the
army.”
“Come along with me,” said Tom; “let’s see what we can do.” He gathered
up all the broken pieces in his handkerchief, and set out in the
direction from which he had come, Nancy Pansy at his side. She slipped
her little hand confidingly into his.
“You knocked that bad man down for me, didn’t you?” she said, looking
up into his face. Tom had not felt until then what a hero he had been.
“Yes,” he said, quite graciously. The little warm fingers worked
themselves yet further into his palm.
At the corner they turned up the street toward the Court-house Square,
and in a few minutes were in camp. At the sight of the child with Adams
the whole camp turned out pell-mell, as if the “long-roll” had beat.
At first Nancy Pansy was a little shy, there was so much excitement,
and she clung tightly to Tom Adams’s hand. She soon found, however,
that they were all friendly.
Tom conducted her to his tent, where she was placed in a great chair,
with a horse-cover over it, as a sort of throne. The story of O’Meara’s
act excited so much indignation that Tom felt it necessary to explain
fully the punishment he had given him.
Nancy Pansy, feeling that she had an interest in the matter, suddenly
took up the narrative.
“Yes, he jus’ knocked him down,” she said, with the most charming
confidence, to her admiring audience, her pink cheeks glowing and her
great eyes lighting up at the recital, as she illustrated Tom’s act
with a most expressive gesture of her by no means clean little fist.
The soldiers about her burst into a roar of delighted laughter, and
made her tell them again and again how it was done, each time renewing
their applause over the ’cute way in which she imitated Tom’s act. Then
they all insisted on being formally introduced, so Nancy Pansy was
stood upon the table, and the men came by in line, one by one, and were
presented to her. It was a regular levee.
Presently she said she must go home, so she was taken down; but before
she was allowed to leave, she was invited to go through the camp, each
man insisting that she should visit his tent. She made, therefore, a
complete tour, and in every tent some souvenir was pressed upon her,
or she was begged to take her choice of its contents. Thus, before she
had gone far, she had her arms full of things, and a string of men were
following her bearing the articles she had honored them by accepting.
There were little looking-glasses, pin-cushions, pairs of scissors,
pictures, razors, bits of gold-lace, cigar-holders, scarf-pins, and
many other things.
When she left camp she was quite piled up with things, whilst Tom
Adams, who acted as her escort, marched behind her with a large
basketful besides. She did not have room to take Harry, so she left
her behind, on the assurance of Tom that she should be mended, and on
the engagement of the entire company to take care of her. The soldiers
followed her to the edge of the camp, and exacted from her a promise
to come again next day, which she agreed to do if her mother would let
her. And when she was out of sight, the whole command held a council of
war over the fragments of Harry.
When Adams reached the Judge’s gate he made a negro who was passing
take the basket in, thinking it better not to go himself up to the
house. He said good-by, and Nancy Pansy started up the walk, whilst he
waited at the gate. Suddenly she turned and came back.
“Good-by!” she said, standing on tiptoe, and putting up her little face
to be kissed.
The young officer stooped over the gate and kissed her.
“Good-by! Come again to-morrow.”
“Yes, if mamma will let me.” And she tripped away with her armful of
presents.
Tom Adams remained leaning on the gate. He was thinking of his home far
away. Suddenly he was aroused by hearing the astonished exclamations in
the house as Nancy Pansy entered. He felt sure that they were insisting
that the things should be sent back, and fearing that he might be
seen, he left the spot and went slowly back to camp, where he found
the soldiers still in a state of pleasurable excitement over Nancy
Pansy’s visit. A collection was taken up for a purpose which appeared
to interest everybody, and a cap nearly full of money was delivered to
Tom Adams, with as many directions as to what he was to do with it as
though it were to get a memorial for the Commander-in-chief. Tom said
he had already determined to do the very same thing himself; still, if
the company wished to “go in” with him, they could do it; so he agreed
to take the money.