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Young marse had he sword in he hand, an' little missy—she warn't but fifteen—tooken it from him an' snatch he cap off, an' strut up an' down ter make ole marse laugh; an' den she buckle de sword on agin, an' little marse he went up an' shook hands wid ole marse, an' he say: 'Good-by, father. You'll see me back 'fore de leaves fall. 'Twon't take long to whip dem chicken-hearted Yankees.' An' missis she hol' him in her arms, an' she kiss him, but she keep on smilin' an never shed a tear.

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53Aunt Phyllis and Aunt Phœbe came to mind the house and Joan and Peter. Aunt Phœbe was writing a little wise poetical book about education, mostly out of her inner consciousness, and she seized the opportunity of this experience very gladly....

All through the long, sad hours Pres-i-dent Lin-coln stood at the helm and was the pi-lot who, un-der the Lord, took the Ship of State through the most aw-ful storm in which she had ev-er sailed.

[pg 155]

[Pg 135]

There had been, through all the years of the war, fights on a small scale in the Val-ley of Vir-gin-ia, and each side had a chance to win from time to time.

{74}

As the good man saw the poor chil-dren from the slums of the cit-y, his ten-der heart was deep-ly touched. His own poor child-hood came up be-fore him, and when urged to speak he said words which brought tears to all eyes. He told them that he, too, had been poor; that his toes stuck out through worn shoes in win-ter, that his arms were out at the el-bows and he shiv-ered with the cold. He said he had found that there was on-ly one rule—“al-ways do the best you can.” He said he had al-ways tried to do the best he could, and that if they would fol-low that rule that they “would get on some-how.” When he felt that he had talked long e-nough and tried to bring his words to a close, there were cries of “Go on!” “Do go on!” and so he told his young hear-ers man-y things that they were glad to hear. Then they sang some of their songs for him, and one of

“People always look well in uniform,” said Frances, looking at him somewhat doubtfully, on which Markham broke forth into his chuckle. “Wait till you see me, my little dear. Wait till the little boys see me on the line of route. They are the true tests of personal attraction. Are you coming, Gaunt? Do you feel inclined to give those fellows their revenge?”

Come out to the stone table under the roses, said Dolly. We argue there about Peters upbringing almost every afternoon.

1.She cuvvered her face wid her hands convoolsively, and me shtopping in me wark in the dining-room lissening by the dure, and reddy to bat the interfeering widder on the hed wid me dooster.

2.The pillared arch, the monumental stone,

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He left the door open behind him. Into the kitchen seeped the deadly chill of night. It struck the miserable Bobby and roused him from the apathy of fright into which his advent to the bright room had immersed him.

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In relation to all these most intimate aspects of life, Socialism, and Socialism alone, supplies the hope and suggestions of clean and practicable solutions. So far, Socialists have either been silent or vague, or—let us say—tactful, in relation to this central tangle of life. To begin to speak plainly among the silences and suppressions, the “find out for yourself” of the current time, would be, I think, to grip the middle-class woman and the middle-class youth of both sexes with an extraordinary new interest, to irradiate the dissensions of every bored couple and every squabbling family with broad conceptions,

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[Pg 331]

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Then the punch was brought.

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