“I have never asked you where your home is,” said Lettice, to her companion. “You do not talk like a Southerner, and yet you are Tyler’s cousin. I do not seem to distinguish your native place by your speech.”
“I am from Massachusetts,” he told her, “but I am something of a cosmopolitan, as every one who follows the sea must be.”
“From Massachusetts? I thought every one in that state was dead set against the war.”
“Oh, no, not every one. To be sure, New Englanders, as a rule, are against it; but if you should investigate, you would find many gallant soldiers and sailors hailing from our part of the country.”
“Have you always lived there?”
“Always. My father lived there all his life, and my grandfather before him, and I am very proud of my native city. Tyler Baldwin and I are second cousins; his grandfather and mine were brothers, and as I was for some time in Annapolis, near my father’s kin, I came to know them quite well.”
“I am very glad to find one New Englander so fierce a fighter in this war. It doesn’t seem right that when she did so much in the Revolution—not that it was more than we did—but when she did so much then, that she should be so dreadfully indifferent now, when it is just as much a war for freedom. I am afraid that, like our old cat there, New England has grown fat and lazy in prosperity. I think I’ll name that cat New England, for she has no special name; Puss seems to be sufficient for her own uses.”
Mr. Baldwin laughed, and they chatted on contentedly till the big clock in the hall warned them of the lateness of the hour, and, beyond that, Mammy had been hovering around for some time, with uneasy glances at her patient.
“I feel as if I had known you for years,” Lettice said, as she bade the young man good night.
“If length of time be counted by the amount of pleasure it brings, I have known you for years,” he returned gallantly.