Worn out with his grief, Harold slept rather late the next morning,
and Mrs. Ford would not have him disturbed. Since it was Saturday,
Mabel did not have to go to school, and she amused herself as best
she could in the garden. She wished that Harold would come down, but
she concluded that, until he did, she would occupy herself by playing
marbles. The fact that they hurt her knuckles did not deter her from
making up her mind to keep on till she could do as well as Harold.
[Illustration: “SHE OCCUPIED HERSELF WITH TRYING TO PLAY MARBLES.”]
She was so absorbed in this employment that she did not hear the gate
open, nor see who had entered, till she heard someone close beside her,
say: “That’s a pretty good shot for a little girl,” and looking up,
she saw a gentleman whose face looked rather familiar.
She jumped to her feet and stood gazing at him, her recollection who
it was gradually returning, and then she cried out: “Why, you weren’t
alive yesterday.”
Captain Evans, for it was he, threw back his head and laughed heartily
in such a very alive way that Mabel could not doubt for a moment that
he was flesh and blood. “I feel very much alive to-day,” he assured
her. “Are you Miss Ford?” he asked.
“No,” Mabel returned, “I’m only the middle one, and I’ll not be
anything else, till Alice is married.”
Captain Evans laughed again. Mabel thought he seemed a very jolly
person.
“You’re really Harold’s father,” she said. “Oh, do hurry in and see
him, for he thought he didn’t have a father any more, and he was so
miserable.”
Captain Evans instantly became grave.
“Did he really believe that? My poor little boy,” and he hurried up the
walk.
Mabel, flying ahead of him, ran up the steps crying joyfully, “Harold!
Harold! Quick!” And she almost fell over him as he appeared at the head
of the stairs.
“He is alive! He is! He is!” she cried. “Come down.”
But Harold needed no second bidding, for he had caught sight of a
beloved figure already mounting the stairs, and, with one shout of joy,
he threw himself into his father’s arms, and was fairly lifted off his
feet in the energy of the greeting that his father gave him.
It was all easily enough explained, when one realizes that Evans is
not a very uncommon name, and had there been time to make a few more
inquiries, the fact would have been brought to light that the Captain
Evans who died at camp was another man, whose son Harry was a a boy of
fifteen, with several sisters and brothers.
Harold and Mabel felt very sorry for these other Evanses, even while
they were so happy over the turn affairs had taken.
“Your aunt is still in no state of health to take charge of a restless
little boy,” Captain Evans told his son, “and so I thought I must get
leave to come on for a few days, and look after my son, for we have
imposed long enough upon the kindness of these good friends.”
Harold’s face fell. “And where am I going?” he asked.
“I don’t know just yet, but I am corresponding with someone in the
country, and I hope to make arrangements to send you to a farm for the
summer. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” replied Harold, “if Mabel could go, too.”
Mabel, listening, took hold of Captain Evans’ fingers and looked into
his face earnestly. “Would it be very far away?” she asked.
“No, only up here in Pennsylvania, a little way.”
“Won’t you please to tell mamma about it?”
“Certainly, I shall be glad to,” returned the captain.
And the outcome was that, not only was the farm found to be the place
for Harold, but for the Ford family, too; with the exception of Mr.
Ford, who was going abroad for the summer.
“It is just the spot for us,” Mrs. Ford declared; “a place where I can
turn the children loose, and know that they are safe.”
Mabel turned a beaming face toward Harold. “Do you hear that?” she
exclaimed. “We’ll be turned loose, and I can go fishing, and I can
climb trees and fences, and play all sorts of boy plays, without having
the girls think I am a tom-boy. Oh, won’t it be fun? And we will be
together all summer, and in the fall--” she looked at Captain Evans.
“Oh, that’s too far to think about now,” he answered, “but if the war
is over, and if I am spared, I shall be able to make my plans more
readily than I can now.”
“I hope the people will be nice and kind on the farm and will let me
have Don,” said Harold.
“That is the only difficulty,” his father told him. “I’m afraid you
cannot take Don with you, but Drake has promised to take charge of him,
and if all goes well you can have him again when you get back. It is
too bad, I know,” he continued, seeing how disappointed Harold looked,
“but you would have had to leave him anyhow, if you had gone to your
aunt’s, for she would not have received the dog, I know.”
“Why can’t I take Don to the farm?” inquired Harold, still hoping for
consent.
“Because Mrs. Knight doesn’t allow dogs on the place. She has a
favorite cat, and, at first, was hardly willing to take a boy. For some
reason she doesn’t approve of boys or dogs, but Mrs. Ford seems to have
overcome her objections.”
“Mrs. Knight!” Mabel exclaimed. “Oh, mamma, is it our Mrs. Knight?
Deborah Knight? She was going to move into the country; I remember. Has
she gone? Is it to her house we are going? I do hope it is.”
“Yes, it is your Deborah Knight,” her mother told her. “I was going to
keep it as a little surprise for you, but it doesn’t matter. As soon
as she is settled on her farm, she is to let us know. When I saw her,
and told her who I was, she immediately remembered you and Harold, and
consented at once to take us all into her home. She has a large house,
and thinks she will be rather lonely there, and seemed really pleased
at the idea of having ‘those two kind and tender children,’ as she
calls you.”
“Is she going to be a farmer herself? How can she, when she is lame?”
Mabel asked.
Mrs. Ford smiled. “No, she has a man and his wife who attend to the
farm for her. They live in a little house on the place. Mrs. Knight has
changed a good many of her plans in order to accommodate us, and I hope
you children will give her no trouble.”
Of course the children protested that they would not; and, indeed, they
were quite as reasonably good as one could expect, and if they did,
once in a while, get into mischief, Mrs. Knight excused it because of
the unfailing respect they showed to Bobby. This important member of
the household seemed to enjoy country life after he had once become
used to the change of residence, and rested secure from his natural
enemies--boys and dogs.
Like the grasshopper, the children played through the summer days.
The fact that Marie Lewis had gone to the White Mountains, and Ethel
Morris was at Bar Harbor, did not, in the least, matter to Mabel,
who would not have exchanged Mrs. Knight’s grove and garden and barn
for all the watering places in the world, and who wanted no better
companion than Harold.
In the midst of summer came the news of peace, and, later on, all Mrs.
Knight’s guests went back to town to see the parades during the week
of the Peace Jubilee celebration. But this did not take place before
Mabel and Harold had a little jubilee of their own, consequent upon the
news that Captain Evans, at Mrs. Ford’s request, would allow Harold to
remain with the Fords for a year, at least, and longer if his father
were still on active duty.
And, will you believe it? Harold, dressed in uniform, marched with his
father’s regiment the day of the military procession. To be sure, he
did not go all the way, but Mabel, up on one of the stands, felt her
heart swell with pride as the regiment swung around the corner of the
Public Buildings, and she saw her little companion bravely trying to
keep step with the soldiers. And when the crowd cheered and cheered,
she thought it must be all for Harold, and she stood up and waved her
handkerchief till her arm was tired.
Harold saw her, and, after the troops had passed in review, his father
sent him to join his friends, and there they sat and looked at the
brave array of infantry, cavalry, artillery and marines.
“When I am grown, I am going to be a soldier,” Harold declared, all
enthusiasm.
Mabel looked sober. That was something a girl couldn’t be, although
she thought it would be fine to march by Harold’s side in such a grand
procession.
But that evening, when the Captain told stories of suffering and
distress, or long marches and weary tramps through rain and sleet, or
under a scorching sun, or the horrors of a battle, Mabel concluded
that, after all, it was rather comforting to know that such things
could not be expected to come into her life, and she felt very sorry
for Harold, who, however, grew only more excited as the dangers were
made more plain.
“But the only heroes are not the men like Dewey and Hobson, and Schley
and Sampson,” Captain Evans said, at last. “I’ve seen the greatest
courage, though of another kind, exhibited in quiet homes and by those
of whom the world never hears. A small duty, which has no blare of
trumpets nor roll of drums to encourage one on to perform, sometimes
requires more real heroism than a charge in battle.”
Mabel knew that. She knew that everybody must fight something, and that
she, too, could be a soldier, in a quiet way. That to become weary and
to deny oneself, to face danger and temptation, was what was expected
of those who had enlisted under the banner of the great Captain.
So, she nodded her head gravely, and said, “Yes, I know.”
Harold’s face showed his appreciation, and as if with one voice they
broke out into the martial hymn: “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”
They sang it all through, and then quiet fell upon the group. From a
distance came the roll of drums. A returning regiment going to its
armory. Then all was still again, except for the voice of a cheery
little cricket shrilling out its peaceful song in some quiet corner of
the garden. Mabel snuggled up close to her mother. Don rested his head
lovingly on his little master’s knee. Content filled the hearts of all,
for this evening. The morrow would see Mabel at school, to battle with
more than books; would see Harold, too, fighting his way through his
first Latin lessons.
The year had taught them many things, but most of all, it had taught
them the value of truth and honor and loving forbearance.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.