West Point Colors

by Anna Bartlett Warner

But the last time Magnus Kindred had been at a picnic, it was in the far-away home region, and with just the home group around him; and now it all came back to him in a moment; with the tones of his mother's voice as she asked for a blessing on their day's pleasure. And I suppose it was this that made him pause unconsciously, after he had taken his stand by the fire to pour out the steaming coffee.

"What is it?" said Mrs. Newcomb, in her plaintive voice. "Not hot yet?"

Then Miss Freak laughed out, and Miss Newcomb looked at her, and Miss Lane watched this cadet who had "views."

"Oh, aunty!" cried Miss Freak, "don't you know he's one of the too-good-for-this-earth boys? Why, coffee out of an ice box would scald his throat, if somebody didn't pray over it first. He's waiting for you to say grace, ma'am."

"Waiting for me!" Mrs. Newcomb repeated helplessly. "But your uncle always does it, you know, Freaky."

"Well, he isn't here," said Miss Freak. "Come, aunty!" The girls were choking themselves with their pocket-handkerchiefs; the cadets, better used to endurance, kept their gravity intact. Charlemagne Kindred stood absolutely still; but his thoughts went flying back to the honeysuckle-wreathed porch, and Cherry, and how she had waited for him. Blessings on her! she never came near him but to do him good.

"Why doesn't the man pour out his coffee?" Miss Lane was saying impatiently to herself.

"Mr. Kindred," said Mrs. Newcomb in a sort of appeal—"girls, be quiet—I am ashamed of you. Mr. Kindred, will you be kind enough to say grace yourself? Of course, it is quite proper to have it done, and a man can do it so much better."

"Not this man!" So shot the feeling through Cadet Charlemagne. This man, who had never even come near such a thing in public. But quick as Nehemiah got his orders, so on the instant the young cadet had his. Was he not pledged to shun no point of witness-bearing? And, with again one swift thought of Cherry, Magnus obeyed; standing there by the little fire, while good Mrs. Newcomb bowed her head, and the others watched him from their mossy seats. And the words were Cherry's own, as she had said them on that well-remembered morning.

"He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much." This was a very small thing to do, but I think nobody ever guessed what it cost Magnus Kindred. And as little did he imagine, how that small bit of open confession broadened out and took its full proportions to other eyes. There was something in the serious face, something in the reverent voice, something about it all, indeed, that everybody felt. As Mr. Kindred came forward now with Mrs. Newcomb's coffee cup, Clinker looked at him curiously, McLean with a sort of wondering veneration, while Miss Lane said to herself: "Fight! Of course he could!" But then Magnus threw himself into the fun, and in two minutes had fanned the frolic to a point that quite outshone the fire.