Months had passed away. In the meantime Richard had returned to camp, and
Harry Duncan, wounded in a late battle, now occupied his deserted bed in
the hospital.
Harry was suffering, but in excellent spirits.
"Cheer up, Allison," he said; "you and I will never go back to
Andersonville; the war can't last much longer, and we may consider the
Union saved. Ah! this is a vast improvement upon Andersonville fare," he
added gayly, as Lottie and May appeared before them, each bearing a tray
with a delicious little lunch upon it. "Miss Lottie, I'm almost tempted to
say it pays to be ill or wounded, that one may be tended by fair ladies'
hands."
"Ah, that speech should have come from Mr. Allison, for May is fair and
her hands are white, while mine are brown," she answered demurely, as she
set her tray within his reach, May doing the same for Harold.
"None the less beautiful, Miss King," returned Duncan gallantly. "Many a
whiter hand is not half so shapely or so useful. Now reward me for that
pretty compliment by coaxing your father to get me well as fast as
possible, that I may have a share in the taking of Richmond."
"That would be a waste of breath, as he's doing all he can already; but
I'll do my part with coddling, write all your letters for you--business,
friendship, love--and do anything else desired; if in my power.
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