Mr. Chittenden winced. "I cannot prevent Confederate troops passing through here," he said, "any more than I can prevent you passing through. I admit my heart is with the South, and I do what little I can to help her; but I am sorry to say I have a traitor in my own household—my daughter here."
"What! Your daughter?" cried Lawrence, in surprise, and he looked at Grace with renewed interest.
"Yes, my daughter; she is heart and soul with you Yankees."
Grace was covered with confusion, and started to rise and leave the table.
"Please don't go, Miss Chittenden," begged Lawrence. "Let me hear from your lips that you love the flag of our common country."
"I hate to differ with father," said Grace, "but I do love the flag. Born and living here as free as the birds of the air, I learned to love freedom. I think this is a wicked, wicked war, waged to perpetuate slavery and to destroy the Union. Father and I don't quarrel. He says I am a girl, and it does not matter much what I believe. That may be; but there is one Union flag still cherished in the Ozarks," and as she said it she put her hand in her bosom and drew forth the little flag she had made in St. Louis. "There is not a day," she continued, "that I don't go out and hold it aloft, that it may be kissed by the winds of heaven, and I pray the day will soon come when it will wave over a reunited country."
Lawrence and Dan could hardly refrain from shouting aloud; even Mr. Chittenden was surprised at the feeling Grace showed.
"There, Grace, that will do," he said, crossly. "Don't make——"
Lawrence stopped him. "Mr. Chittenden," he exclaimed, "I congratulate you on having such a daughter, and you can be thankful that you have."
"I do not see why," answered Mr. Chittenden; "but I am thankful that Grace has until now kept her opinions to herself. It would be rather awkward for me to have it generally known."