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Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946

"The Victim A romance of the Real Jefferson Davis"


The wounded man softly laughed.
"Waal, hit's been washed fourteen times to-day, but I'll stand it again,
if you say so!"
The girl laughed and blushed and passed quickly on.
When all the grapes and peaches had been distributed save in one basket
Socola looked at these enquiringly.
"And these, Miss Jennie--they're the finest of the lot?"
The girl smiled tenderly.
"They're for revenge--"
"Revenge?"
"Yes. The next ward is full of Yankees. I'm going to heap coals of fire
on their heads--come--"
The last luscious peach and bunch of grapes had been distributed and the
last soldier in blue had murmured:
"God bless you, Miss!"
Jennie paused at the door and waved her hand in friendly adieu to the
hungry, homesick eyes that still followed her.
She brushed a tear from her cheek and whispered:
"That's for my Big Brother. I'll tell him about it some day. He's still
in the Union--but he's mine!"
She drew her lace handkerchief from her belt, dried her tears and looked
up with a laugh.
"I'm not so loyal after all--am I?"
"No. But I've seen something bigger than loyalty," he breathed softly,
"something divine--"
"Come," said the girl lightly. "I wish you to meet the most wonderful
woman in Richmond.


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