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Dalton had felt an uncontrollable eagerness to see her, and had written to Miss Plympton the letter already reported. He did not expect that she would come so soon. He thought that she would wait for a time; that he would get an answer, and arrange every thing for her reception. As it was, she came at once, without any announcement, accompanied by Miss Plympton and her maid.
And he had brought Dalton back to her, he had given him this opportunity to plead his cause, had given him the incentive of a man of his kind to still pursue; he had, as he had said, let Becky in for it, and now he was raging at the thought. Nellie Custis, padding at his heels, had known that something disturbed him.
'Because it's my house, replied the orderly, 'and my wife and I would have felt greatly disappointed if you had gone elsewhere." "And so all this splendid place belongs to an orderly?" said Harry. "Funny you didn't hear that story," said Dalton. "Most of us have, but I suppose everybody took it for granted that you knew it. As you say, that grand place belongs to one of our orderlies.
"And here's a dressed turkey, a twenty-pounder at least!" said Harry. "Ah, you noble bird! What better fate could you find than a tomb in the stomachs of brave Confederate soldiers!" "And another turkey!" said Dalton. "And a bag of nuts!" said Sherburne. "And, as I live, two bottles of claret!" said St. Claire. "And a big black cake!" said Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.
I do not let her go out uf der house dese days, as she may not be able to find der vay back in again." "We'd better go, George," said Harry. "I think we only waste time asking questions of such a forgetful family." "It iss so," said Onderdonk; "but, young Mister Rebels, I remember one thing." "And what is that?" asked Dalton. "It vas a piece of advice dot I ought to gif you.
This harlequinade excited much boisterous laughter among the crowd; and no one joined in it more mirthfully than young Springall, who, for some reason known best to Hugh Dalton, yet sanctioned by Sir Robert Cecil, had spent the last few days in the kitchens and buttery of Cecil Place.
"I know it," said Dalton, "but we've got to go on and see these men for ourselves. Stonewall Jackson is a terrible man, Cousin Eliza. If we tell him that the Yankees are coming through Manassas Gap and closing in on his rear, he'll ask us how we know it, and when we reply that a boy told us he'll break us as unfit to be on his staff."
He looked around him in the fading day, to find himself opposite the closed gates of the Botanical Gardens, in the southwestern portion of the city . . . . An hour later he had made his way back to Dalton Street with its sputtering blue lights and gliding figures, and paused for a moment on the far sidewalk to gaze at Mr. Bentley's gleaming windows. Should he go in?
A suspicion of this sort had once flashed across Edith's mind. It was during the altercation at the Dalton chapel. Still, as this suspicion was thus confirmed, her surprise was extreme, and she said not a word, but looked steadily at her.
That gentleman bowed stiffly from the doorway, and Joyce with an effort, drew herself together. "Good morning, Camille! Leon, this is Mr. Dalton, of whom you have heard so much in my letters. You will scarcely need to scrape acquaintance. What's on the docket this morning, Gypsy?"