Crittenden

Just then, a radiant little creature looked up into Crittenden's face,

calling him by name and holding out both hands--Phyllis, Basil's little

sweetheart. With her was a tall, keen-featured fellow, whom she

introduced as a war correspondent and a Northerner.

"A sort of war correspondent," corrected Grafton, with a swift look of

interest at Crittenden, but turning his eyes at once back to Phyllis.

She was a new and diverting type to the Northern man and her name was

fitting and pleased him. A company passed just then, and a smothered

exclamation from Phyllis turned attention to it. On the end of the line,

with his chin in, his shoulders squared and his eyes straight forward,

was Crittenden's warrior-brother, Basil. Only his face coloured to show

that he knew where he was and who was looking at him, but not so much as

a glance of his eye did he send toward the tent. Judith turned to

Crittenden quickly: "Your little brother is going to the war?" The question was thoughtless

and significant, for it betrayed to him what was going on in her mind,

and she knew it and coloured, as he paled a little.

"My little brother is going to the war," he repeated, looking at her.

Judith smiled and went on bravely: "And you?"

Crittenden, too, smiled.

"I may consider it my duty to stay at home."

The girl looked rather surprised--instead of showing the subdued sarcasm

that he was looking for--and, in truth, she was. His evasive and

careless answer showed an indifference to her wish and opinion in the

matter that would once have been very unusual. Straightway there was a

tug at her heart-strings that also was unusual.

The people were gathering into the open-air auditorium now and, from all

over the camp, the crowd began to move that way. All knew the word of

the orator's mouth and the word of the editor--they had heard the one

and seen the other on his printed page many times; and it was for this

reason, perhaps, that Crittenden's fresh fire thrilled and swayed the

crowd as it did.

When he rose, he saw his mother almost under him and, not far behind

her, Judith with her father, Judge Page. The lieutenant of regulars was

standing on the edge of the crowd, and to his right was Grafton, also

standing, with his hat under his arm--idly curious. But it was to his

mother that he spoke and, steadfastly, he saw her strong, gentle face

even when he was looking far over her head, and he knew that she knew

that he was arguing the point then and there between them.