"
The sense of loss was gone and he was rich and happy again.
When the supper was over and they sat before the flickering firelight he
asked her a question over which his mind had puzzled since he left the
old soldier.
"Why is it," he said thoughtfully, "British soldiers can't fight?"
The mother smiled:
"Who said they couldn't fight?"
"The old soldier I gave my fish to. He said we just made hash out o'
them. We've licked 'em twice and we can do it again!"
The last sentence he didn't quote. He gave it as a personal opinion
based on established facts.
"We didn't win because the British couldn't fight," the mother gravely
responded.
"Then why?" he persisted.
"The Lord was good to us."
"How?"
The question came with an accent of indignation. Sometimes he couldn't
help getting cross with his mother when she began to give the Lord
credit for everything. If the Lord did it all why should he give his
string of fish to an old soldier!
The grey eyes looked into his with wistful tenderness. She had been
shocked once before by the fear that there was something in this child's
eternal why that would keep him out of the church. The one deep desire
of her heart was that he should be good.
"Would you like to hear," she began softly, "something about the
Revolution which my old school teacher told me in Virginia?"
"Yes, tell me!" he answered eagerly.
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