It was a crude
coach, by the standards of to-day, but it was a luxury then. Harry
and Dalton enjoyed it, after so much riding horseback, and watched the
pleasant landscape, brown now from the July sun, flow past.
Their coach did not contain many passengers, several wounded officers
going to Richmond on furlough, some countrymen, carrying provisions to
the capital for sale, and a small, thin, elderly woman in a black dress,
to whom Harry assigned the part of an old maid. He noticed that her
features were fine and she had the appearance of one who had suffered.
When they reached Richmond and their passes were examined, he hastened
to carry her bag for her and to help her off the train. She thanked him
with a smile that made her almost handsome, and quickly disappeared in
the streets of the city.
"A nice looking old maid," he said to Dalton.
"How do you know she's an old maid?"
"I don't know. I suppose it's a certain primness of manner."
"You can't judge by appearances. Like as not she's been married thirty
years, and it's possible that she may have a family of at least twelve
children."
"At any rate, we'll never know. But it's good, George, to be here in
Richmond again. It's actually a luxury to see streets and shop windows,
and people in civilian clothing, going about their business.
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