"But I don't want you to die." She clasped her arms about her mother's neck convulsively.
"Dear, that would give us thirty-odd years. And grandmother was not a very old woman. A great many things may happen in that time. I think you are a little out of spirits and lonesome. You had better go up to Jaqueline's to-morrow. Cato and Jim are going up with a load. Cato can escort you, and they can take a portmanteau in the wagon. Captain Ralston complains that you have quite deserted him."
"And desert you!" half reproachfully.
"I shall have papa. Yes, little girlie, you must go and have a nice time. I shall think of all the pleasure you are enjoying. And we may come up for a few days."
"Oh, mamma—if you will! It would be strange to love anyone better than one's own mother."
But such things had been heard of in the history of womankind.
Annis went up to her beloved Washington. Three homes opened their hospitable doors, and Louis took her to see his new house, just above the ruined pile that was full of storied incident already.
"They are sure to rebuild it," he said. "There is a grant being considered. We have had to fight against considerable odds, but we shall keep our own Washington. Forty or fifty years from this I shall be telling my grandchildren how men flew to arms in her defense, whether they were soldiers or not. And though the treaty has omitted some things, we shall take them and keep them. France is our good ally again. And John Quincy Adams has gone to St. Petersburg to make friends of the Russians."
"Oh, that's the man Charles talks about, who went abroad with his father when he was such a little lad, and had such a hard time, and studied and studied, and went to Holland and everywhere."
"And is a fine diplomat. For a young country we have raised a magnificent crop of men! I hope to be chief justice myself some day."