The sun rose on a day never to be forgotten by the people of Long
Island. Refugees were pouring along every road from the city. A wild
rumor of the bombardment of New York had spread and they were determined
to get behind General Hood’s thin line of half-armed defenders. They
were still imbued with a blind faith that somewhere our mighty nation
had an army of adequate defense.
Virginia Holland had reached home by automobile to find her father’s
house turned into a recruiting camp. Old soldiers of the Grand Army of
the Republic and the Confederate veterans of New York and Brooklyn, were
out in their faded uniforms demanding guns with which to defend the
flag.
Holland received them in his house and began to drill on the lawn.
Virginia with sinking heart hurried to serve refreshments to the mob of
excited men. Marya and Zonia joined with enthusiasm.
Benda was there awaiting Vassar’s arrival with a squad of his friends
for whom he had procured uniforms and a few guns. He was drilling them
in his earnest, awkward way when Angela suddenly appeared in the line
of refugees from New York.
He rushed to stop her:
“Ah, my Angela, you here! And I told you stay home!”
Angela tossed her head with contempt for his fears.
“I come with you--”
“Go back--back--I say!”
Angela merely laughed and resumed her march with the refugees. If they
could live she could.
Tommaso threw up his hands in despair and returned to his drill.
At noon Vassar approached at the head of a division of raw troops. The
road was lined with cheering people. He halted his men at the gate,
dismounted and entered the Holland lawn, hoping against hope for a word
with Virginia. He watched for a moment old Holland at the pathetic task
of drilling his blue and gray veterans.
“It won’t do, Mr. Holland,” he said with a smile. “Your fighting is
done--”
“Nonsense!” Holland protested. “I’ll show you--”
He put his line of veterans through the manual of arms and one of them
fainted.
Vassar slipped his arm about him tenderly.
“It’s no use. I need your guns. Give them to me--”
Tommaso marched in and took the half-dozen guns against the bitter
protests of the old men.
They gathered at the gate and cheered and cried as the boys answered the
assembly call.
Vassar met Virginia and extended his hand in silence. She turned away
fighting for self-control. Her heart was too sore in its consciousness
of tragedy for surrender yet. His tall figure straightened, he turned
and hurried to his men.
It was not until she saw him riding bravely toward the enemy to the
certain doom that awaited our men that she lifted her hands in a vain
effort to recall him and sob her repentance in his arms.