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
