'Fightin' ain't the only grand thing in this world; peace is grander,' was the slow response to this appeal.
'That's what mother says. She made me learn this morning—"Blessed are the peacemakers!" but you must have an enemy to make peace with, and I haven't got one.'
There was silence; the uncle puffed away at his pipe; he was a good man, and had more brains than his appearance warranted, but Teddy's speeches were often a sore puzzle to him. The boy continued in a slow, thoughtful tone, 'I saw some one to-day that I feel might be an enemy, but she's a girl; men don't fight with women.'
'I'd rather tackle a man than a woman any day. They be a powerful enemy sometimes, lad! And what have this young maid done to you?'
'She said,'—and Teddy's eyes grew bright whilst the blood rushed into his cheeks—'she said she didn't believe a word of father's story—not a word of it! And she laughed, and walked away.'
'That was coming it strong; and who is she, to talk so?'
'She's a stranger; Sam said she's come to live with old Sol at the turnpike.'
'That must be Grace's child,' said old Mrs. Platt, coming up and joining in the conversation. 'I heard she was coming to stay with her father this summer, and glad I am of it too—the old man is very lonely. I suppose her husband is at sea again.'
'What is her husband?' inquired Teddy's mother, as with work in hand she came out and took a seat in the old-fashioned porch.
'A sailor. Grace was always a roving nature herself. She never would settle down quiet and take a husband from these parts. She was maid to our squire's lady then, and went to foreign parts with her; but folks say she's steadied down now wonderful. They've been living at Portsmouth, she and her little girl.'