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Updated: June 13, 2025
Angels dropped down they seemed, tenderly begging off from all talk of the Callenders, who, Flora distressfully said, had been "grozzly exaggerated," while, nevertheless, she declared herself, with starting tears, utterly unable to explain why on earth they had gone to Mobile "unlezz the bazaar." No doubt, however, they would soon telegraph by way of Jackson.
In New Orleans all news but bad news was contraband to any "he or she adder," but four-fold contraband to the Callenders, the fairest member of whose trio, every time a blue-and-gold cavalier forced her conversation, stung him to silence with some word as mild as a Cordelia's.
Behind a big earthwork of their own construction down on the river's edge of the old battle ground, close beyond the Callenders', they lay camped in pretty white tents that seemed to Anna, at her window, no bigger than visiting-cards.
And the blithe commander, in the seclusion of his tent, standing over the lad and holding him tenderly by both pretty ears, preached to him of his sister and grandmother until with mute rage the youngster burned as red as his jacket facings; and then of the Callenders "who gave us our guns, and one of whom is the godmother of our flag, Charlie" until the tears filled Charlie's eyes, and he said: "I'll try, Captain, but it's oh, it's no use!
"Good," said Hilary beside the field-piece. "You wait here and I'll bring the Callenders as they can come." But while he went for them whom should Greenleaf light upon around a corner of the panelled chimney-breast but that secret lover of the Union and all its defenders, Mademoiselle Valcour. Her furtive cordiality was charming as she hurriedly gave and withdrew a hand in joy for his liberation.
In one of those damp June-hot caves galleried into the sheer yellow-clay sides of her deep-sunken streets, desolate streets where Porter's great soaring, howling, burrowing "lamp-posts" blew up like steamboats and flew forty ways in search of women and children, dwelt the Callenders.
But where were old friends and battery sisters? All estranged. Could not the Callenders go to them and explain? Explain!
He called that evening while the Callenders were at six o'clock dinner. He was in evening dress, on the way to dine at the house of a friend, and he went straight to the Callender basement dining-room, where he chatted as much with Mrs.
It was like turning to the light the several facets of one of those old-fashioned jewels Flora was privately bearing away, to see the five beauties part company: "Good-by, good-by," kiss, kiss ah, the sad waste of it! kiss left, kiss right, "good-by." As the Callenders came in again from the veranda, their theme was Flora. "Yet who," asked Constance, "ever heard her utter a moral sentiment?"
Presently from the approaching column came who but Hilary Kincaid, galloping easily over the slippery pavements. He lifted his képi and halted. One could read his soft questions. "All right? All ready? Where are the others? Ah!" He sent an eager salutation to the Callenders, and two joyfully bowed, but Anna gave no sign.
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