“Yes,” said her father, “I feel very much as you do about it. I wish I knew they were all Christians, therefore happy in heaven now.”
“So do I, father,” she sighed, “but it seems to me one of the very dreadful things about war is its sending so many to death with no time for preparation, and probably in the heat of passion with their foes.”
“That is true,” he said. “War is a dreadful thing; always very wicked on one side, if not on both. The Revolutionary War was right and commendable on the side of our forbears—resisting tyranny as they were—and we, their descendants, are reaping from it the rich fruit of freedom.”
“And it is rich fruit!” exclaimed Lucilla in joyous tones.
“Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrim’s pride, From every mountain side Let Freedom ring.”
“Sounds quite like Fourth of July, sis,” laughed a manly voice behind her, and turning she found Max standing there.
“Will three be as good company as two?” he asked, in the same lively tone in which he had spoken before.
“Better,” replied their father; “at least in this instance; and the porch is wide enough for three to walk abreast.”
“And it won’t hurt Lu to take one of my arms as well as yours, sir,” said Max, offering it.
“Well, I will; it isn’t every day now that I get the chance,” she responded, slipping her hand into it. “Now I think we will have a fine promenade.”
“What report can you give of wife and daughter at the present moment, Max?” asked the captain.
“Oh, they are doing finely. Eva says she feels quite well enough to be up and about if that tyrannical doctor didn’t forbid it. And our baby is good as gold—and a great deal more valuable,” he added, with a happy laugh.
“She’s prettier than gold this one of her aunts thinks,” laughed Lucilla. “And what a treasure she will be in Sunnyside, our sweet, pretty home.”
“Yes, I hope so. It is very good of you to give her such a royal welcome.”
“Ah, if only her father could be with us all the time!” sighed Lucilla.
“Perhaps in that case his companionship might, at times, grow wearisome,” laughed Max. “‘Blessings brighten as they take their flight,’ and perhaps it may be so with brothers and husbands.”
“A remark I should advise you not to make in Eva’s hearing,” she returned in mirthful tones.