Mabel knew that. She knew that everybody must fight something, and that she, too, could be a soldier, in a quiet way. That to become weary and to deny oneself, to face danger and temptation, was what was expected of those who had enlisted under the banner of the great Captain.
So, she nodded her head gravely, and said, “Yes, I know.”
Harold’s face showed his appreciation, and as if with one voice they broke out into the martial hymn: “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”
They sang it all through, and then quiet fell upon the group. From a distance came the roll of drums. A returning regiment going to its armory. Then all was still again, except for the voice of a cheery little cricket shrilling out its peaceful song in some quiet corner of the garden. Mabel snuggled up close to her mother. Don rested his head lovingly on his little master’s knee. Content filled the hearts of all, for this evening. The morrow would see Mabel at school, to battle with more than books; would see Harold, too, fighting his way through his first Latin lessons.
The year had taught them many things, but most of all, it had taught them the value of truth and honor and loving forbearance.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.