DRAFTED.
MISS JESSIE smiled a little at Ada's assumption of womanhood when the
two girls came over to drink tea.
"Ah," said Grandmother Darrell, wiping her glasses, "she's no such a
girl as Kathie! The child's worth half a dozen of her. After all,
there's no place like the country to bring up boys and girls."
For Grandmother Darrell, like a good many other people, fancied
everything that came from the city must be more or less contaminated.
"I think Miss Darrell _would_ make your uncle a very nice wife," Ada
said, graciously. "Do you suppose there is anything in it?"
Kathie flushed scarlet, remembering the pain and trouble of last winter.
"I don't want to talk about it," she answered, in a low tone.
Ada nodded her head sagaciously. It was quite evident that she had hit
upon the truth.
Some of the Brookside girls thought Ada "so splendid," Lottie Thorne
among them, who now treated Kathie in a very amiable manner, and always
took pains to speak with her as they came out of church. Of course,
Lottie was growing older and a little more sensible, as well as worldly
wise.
They took Ada to all the pleasant haunts, rowed over the lake, made two
or three visits, and Mrs. Alston invited some girls, or rather young
ladies, to tea; but Ada showed a decided preference for the young
gentlemen. Even unsuspicious Kathie remarked how soon her headaches
disappeared, and how ready she was to sing if some of the boys would
stand at the piano and turn her music.
"A budding coquette," said Aunt Ruth, with a quiet smile.
"What a pity that girls should be reared to such idle, frivolous lives,
and have their minds so filled with vanity and selfishness!" Mrs. Alston
replied. "Can such blossoming bring forth good, wholesome fruit?"
Mr. Meredith felt a little annoyed. The visit was not quite the success
he had hoped, and he saw more clearly than ever the difference between
the two girls; but ah, how unlike their mothers were!
Was he growing more serious, clearer-eyed? What was there about this
family that charmed so insensibly? The higher motives, the worthier
lives, with a more generous outlook for neighbor and friend!
Kathie was ashamed to confess it even to herself, but she said good by
at the station with a sense of relief. For days a horrible thought had
been haunting her,--suppose Uncle Robert _should_ be drafted! The
abruptly terminated conversation had not been renewed; indeed, there had
been so many pleasures at Cedarwood that one hardly wanted to bring in
such a subject. But if it did happen, Kathie felt she should want no
stranger eyes to witness her grief.
For when the question came directly home, she felt that she could not
give him up; yet how brave she had been last winter! If General
Mackenzie could look into her heart, he would find that she hardly
deserved all his praise.
But all Brookside was much excited over the prospect. Business was very
dull and bounties tempting; so numbers enlisted.
"Uncle Robert," Kathie said, as they were riding homeward, "could a
drafted man offer a substitute just the same?"
"Why, yes, to be sure."
He uttered the words in such a light-hearted manner that she felt quite
relieved, but lacked courage to pursue the subject further. A little
quiver would keep rising from her heart to her throat, interfering with
the steadiness of her voice.
By Monday night seventy men were still needed to complete the quota.
That gave Brookside about forty.
Kathie wondered how they could all go on with their usual routine. Aunt
Ruth, even, sat by the window and sang "Bonnie Doon," as she sewed upon
Rob's outfit. His uncle had decided upon a school about sixty miles
distant, a flourishing collegiate institution, in a healthy locality,--a
quaint, quiet, old-fashioned town, with a river where the boys could
have boating and swimming.
"It is so far!" Mrs. Alston had said at first.
"Not too far, though. Of course we do not expect him to come home every
few weeks. That always unsettles a boy."
So she made no further demur. The principal, Dr. Goldthwaite, was a
truly religious man, and the place was held in high esteem. Perhaps this
took their thoughts a little from the subject that was so absorbing to
Kathie.
Rob went over to the hall and hung about all the morning. He did find a
good deal of amusement in it. The crowd was disposed to be rather jolly,
and several of the men took their luck with great good-humor. It was as
his uncle had said. While they would not willingly leave their homes and
families, still, if the country had need of them in her imminent peril,
they would go. Others, sure of a substitute, took the news with
unconcern. Only a few exhibited any anger, or declared loudly what they
would and what they would not do.
At three o'clock the printed list was complete, and the notices were
being made up.
"So your uncle's in for it, Rob!" exclaimed a voice at his side.
"No, you're mistaken. I listened to every name."
"Here it is,--Robert Conover!"
Rob followed the grimy finger down the list. Sure enough! His heart
stood still for a moment.
"He will get a sub, though! He'd be a fool to go when he's rich enough
to stay at home!"
"Yes, that's it!" and a burly fellow turned, facing them with a savage
frown. "It's the poor man this 'ere thing comes hard on! Rich men are
all cowards! They kin stay to hum and nuss themselves in the
chimbly-corner. I say they're cowards!"
Rob's heart swelled within him for a twofold reason. First, the shock.
He had not been able to believe that the draft would touch them, and the
surprise was very great. Then to have his uncle called a coward! All the
boy's hot, unreasoning indignation was ablaze.
"He is not!" he answered, fiercely.
"Say that agin and I'll knock you over!"
Rob was not to be dared or to be bullied into silence. He stood his
ground manfully.
"I say that my uncle is no coward, whether he gets a substitute or not!"
The fellow squared off. It was Kit Kent, as he was commonly called, a
blacksmith of notoriously unsteady habits.
"None of that!" and a form was interposed between Bob and his
assailant. "Hit a fellow of your size, Kent, not a boy like that."
"Let the youngster hold his tongue then! Much he knows!"
Rob did not stir, but his lips turned blue and almost cold with the
pressure. If he had been a little larger, it seemed to him that he could
not have let Kent alone.
"There's a chance for you to make some money," exclaimed a voice in the
crowd. "Six or seven hundred dollars, and you're grumbling about being
out of work! It's a golden opportunity, and you'll never find another
like it."
That turned the laugh upon Kent. Rob walked off presently. Turning into
a quiet street, he nearly ran over two men who stood talking.
"The trouble is that you can hardly find a substitute. Most of the
able-bodied men who will go have enlisted or been drafted. The look is
mighty poor!"
That startled Rob again. He began to feel pretty sober now. What if--
Kathie and Aunt Ruth had gone out into the garden, and were taking up
some flowers for winter.
"O Rob!" exclaimed Kathie, with a cry, "is there any news? It's the
worst, I know," answering her own question, her breath almost strangling
her.
"Yes, it is the worst!"
"Uncle Robert has been drafted!" Kathie dropped her trowel and flew to
her mother. "But he won't go," she sobbed; "do you think he will? How
can we spare him?"
"It would be no worse for us than for hundreds of others," replied her
mother. "Kathie, my darling, be brave until we know, at least."
"Where is he?"
"He went to Connor's Point with Mr. Langdon. Hush, dear, don't cry."
Kathie wiped away her tears. "It is very hard," she said. "I never
realized before how hard it was."
But the flowers lost their charm. Kathie put away her implements, laid
off her garden-dress, as she called it,--a warm woollen sack and
skirt,--and sat down, disconsolately enough, to practise her music. Next
week she was going to school.
She heard Uncle Robert's voice on the porch at the side entrance. Rob
was talking in great earnest; but somehow she couldn't have gone out, or
trusted the voice still so full of tears.
He came in at length. "You have heard the news, Kitty?"
She rose and went to his arms, hid her face upon his shoulder. "O Uncle
Robert!"
"What ought I to do, little one?"
It was such a solemn question that she could not answer it readily,
selfishly.
"Rob came very near getting into a row on my behalf. It was rather
funny. Poor boy! I believe he would go willingly in my stead."
The story interested Kathie a good deal, and turned the current of her
feelings somewhat. Then one or two of the neighbors came in, and they
had no more quiet until they gathered round the supper-table. Freddy
thought it a great honor to be drafted.
"Is it true that there is a scarcity of substitutes?" asked Rob of his
uncle.
"I believe it is. Mr. Langdon put in one about a month ago, and paid a
thousand dollars."
"But you could afford that," said Rob, decisively.
"What about the cowardice of the proceeding?"
Rob colored. The matter appeared so different to him now.
"O Uncle Robert!"--in a most deprecating tone.
"I will not perplex you, nor keep you in suspense," he said, gravely.
"If your father was alive I think I should not hesitate a moment. The
country is at her sorest need, and calls upon her loyal children for
assistance. It is the duty of every man who can be spared to answer the
call, to swell the list so that the struggle may be brief. It seems to
me that another year will certainly see our war ended, now that we have
such brave and able generals in the field, but if the stress should be
any greater, I _must_ respond. Now, however, I shall do my best to
procure a substitute."
They all drew a relieved breath. Kathie looked up with a tender light in
her eyes.
"I am so glad!" she said afterward, nestling beside him upon the sofa.
"Did it surprise you when you heard that you were drafted?"
"I must confess that it did. I had a presentiment that I should escape,
so it seems such things are not always to be depended upon."
Kathie was silent for some time, her eyes engrossed with a figure in the
carpet.
"Well, Miss Thoughtful, what is it now? Are you not satisfied to have me
stay, or am I less of a hero in your eyes?"
"No, Uncle Robert. I was only thinking of the men who were compelled to
go and did not want to, who had families to leave--"
"My darling, it is not necessary to lay the cares of others so deeply to
heart. Instead, we must do all we can for those who are left behind."
"I don't think a draft quite a fair thing, after all," declared Rob,
coming out of a brown study.
Mrs. Alston entered the room. "Mr. Morrison is over here and wishes to
see you,--Ethel's father."
Uncle Robert rose and went out.
In the mean while Aunt Ruth and Rob had quite a warm discussion
concerning the draft. Kathie somehow felt very tender-hearted, and was
silent.
Presently they heard steps in the hall and the door opened.
"I have brought Mr. Morrison in to see you all," Mr. Conover said, "and
to explain to you that he desires to go in my stead, a willing
substitute."
There was something very solemn and withal sweet in Uncle Robert's
voice. Rob winked away a tear, Kathie walked over to Mr. Morrison and
laid her hand in his,--a pretty white hand if she did dust the rooms and
do gardening with it.
"It is so very kind and generous in you," she began, falteringly,
thinking of another love and another substitute.
"No, Miss Kathie, it isn't all pure generosity, so don't praise me too
soon. If I'd been real lucky about getting work, maybe I shouldn't have
taken the idea so strongly into my mind, or if poor Ethel's mother had
lived. But times are unsettled, and business of all kinds is so very
dull that I'd half made up my mind to 'list and get the bounty. That
would be something for my little girl in case she didn't have me. Then
when I heard talk of the draft I thought to myself, 'If Mr. Conover gets
taken I'll offer to go in his place'; and so I waited. Being an
Englishman, I am not liable, you know."
"And that makes it the more noble," returned Kathie, softly. "It was so
good to--to think of him"; and her voice sank to a whisper.
"You have all been so kind to my poor old mother, and to me, for that
matter, as well. I seem to owe some sort of duty to you first."
"Did you mean to enlist any way?" asked Kathie.
"Yes, miss, it would have come to that; for, said I, 'Here is a country
and a government battling in a good cause, begging for men, and willing
to provide for the little ones they may leave behind.' Though I should
be no skulk, nor eye-server, Miss Kathie, if I did go for the money."
"We should never think that of you," returned Uncle Robert, warmly.
"So I'll be glad to go in your place, sir, if it's any favor; and if
you'll look after Ethel a little, if anything should happen to me. If
I'm too bold in asking--"
"No," said Aunt Ruth; "it will be a sacred duty, and a pleasure as well;
but we shall count upon your return."
"Life is uncertain with us all," was the grave reply. With that he rose
and bowed. Uncle Robert left the room with him, for he had much more to
say.
"I couldn't have uttered a word," exclaimed Rob, his voice still a
little tremulous. "Why, it's just like a dream! There are noble and
heroic men who may go to war even for the money, though I think they are
a good deal sneered at,--subs, as the boys call them; but I shall never
ridicule them again,--never, although bad men may do the same thing."
"It is not quite the same," subjoined Kathie.
"No, the motive makes a great difference."
Uncle Robert returned and took his seat between the children. He
appeared to be invested with a new virtue in their eyes, as if he had
just escaped an imminent and deadly peril. And there is something in the
simplest act of chivalry that touches one's soul.
"It was so good in Mr. Morrison to think of you," Rob said, after a
while.
"Yes; going farther back, I don't know but we owe it all to Kathie. If
she had not thought of our trusty and efficient gardener, we should
never have known his brother. The lodge has made a charming home for
them, and they feel deeply grateful."
"It is worse to go away to war than I imagined," Rob continued, gravely
following out his own musings.
"You have been looking at the glory and listening to the music, my boy;
but there is quite another side to it. It is one thing to go out as a
mounted officer, in glittering uniform, with a servant to wait upon you,
and if you fall in battle to have whole cities weep your loss, and quite
another to tramp as a common soldier, often weary and footsore, to be
subject to the caprice of those in authority, to work night and day
sometimes, to stand in the front rank and be swept down by a terrific
charge, be trampled under foot and thrown into a nameless grave, perhaps
forever lost to your kindred. It is no light matter, Rob, and requires a
good deal of courage when a man does it intelligently."
"You wouldn't have gone out as a private, though!"
A grave smile crossed Uncle Robert's face "I should not have gone for
the glory, but the duty. Yes, Rob, I should have taken my place in the
ranks, and if the great Captain of all had said, 'Friend, come up
higher,' I should have trusted through his grace to be ready for the
promotion. But one goes in my stead."
Kathie thought of the One who had gone in the place of us all, been
mocked, derided, spit upon, and put to a cruel death. Maybe the rest
remembered it too, for there was no more talking. Their hearts were too
full.