“Command a regiment!” laughed the first, again, as of this in particular had struck his sense of humor.  “I guess he won’t get a regiment in a hurry, There’s lots of those military carpet-baggers hanging around for good jobs now.”

“He might fool you fellows yet,” said the one caller, though his tone was not one of conviction.  “I understand he had a first-rate record an the Mexican War.”

Just then an aide rode up, and the Colonel gave a sharp command which put an end to this desultory talk.  As the First Regiment took up the march, the words “Camp Jackson” ran from mouth to mouth on the sidewalks.  Catching fire, Stephen ran with the crowd, and leaping on passing street car, was borne cityward with the drums of the coming hosts beating in his ears.

In the city, shutters were going up on the stores.  The streets were filled with, restless citizens seeking news, and drays were halted here and there on the corners, the white eyes and frenzied calls of the negro drivers betraying their excitement.  While Stephen related to his mother the events of the morning, Hester burned the dinner.  It lay; still untouched, on the table when the throbbing of drums sent them to the front steps.  Sigel’s regiment had swung into the street, drawing in its wake a seething crowd.

Three persons came out of the big house next door.  One was Anna Brinsmade; and there was her father, his white hairs uncovered.  The third was Jack.  His sister was cringing to him appealingly, and he struggling in her grasp.  Out of his coat pocket hung the curved butt of a pepperbox revolver.

“Let me go, Anne!” he cried.  “Do you think I can stay here while my people are shot down by a lot of damned Dutchman?”

“John,” said Mr. Brinsmade, sternly, “I cannot let you join a mob.  I cannot let you shoot at men who carry the Union flag.”

“You cannot prevent me, sir,” shouted the young man, in a frenzy.  “When foreigners take our flag for them own, it is time for us to shoot them down.”

Wrenching himself free, he ran down the steps and up the street ahead of the regiment.  Then the soldiers and the noisy crowd were upon them and while these were passing the two stood there as in a dream.  After that silence fell upon the street, and Mr. Brinsmade turned and went back into the house, his head bowed as in prayer.  Stephen and his mother drew back, but Anne saw them.

“He is a rebel,” she faltered.  “It will break my father’s heart.”

She looked at Stephen appealingly, unashamed of the tears in her eyes.  Then she, too went in.

“I cannot stay here mother,” he said.

As he slammed the gate, Anne ran down the steps calling his name.  He paused, and she caught his sleeve.

“I knew you would go,” she said, “I knew you would go.  Oh, Stephen, you have a cool head.  Try to keep Jack—­out of mischief.”