“Sure they were the same ones? Pretty old birds!”
“Oh, eagles live thousands of years! That’s nothing for an eagle! Anyway, the eagles came, and the Civil War soon came to its close.”
“Now then for the point of this tale,” said Herron. “Has friend eagle showed up of late?”
“He has!” cried Helen triumphantly; “several eagles were seen there last week! Now, I believe this war will soon end!”
“The American eagle is a war-ender, all right!” declared Phil, “and I hope to goodness, Helen, your pet scheme works out. Just how long after the eagles’ arrival is peace declared? Usually, I mean.”
“That I can’t say. Nor do I swear to the truth of the story. But I tell the tale as ’twas told to me, and you can take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” said Patty, promptly. “I’m a wee bit superstitious, and I like to think of the eagles appearing as a harbinger of hope of peace,—like the Ark dove.”
“It can’t do any harm to believe it,” and Philip smiled at her; “and it may do good. If you believed in a thing I’m sure it would make me do so, too, and if a lot of us believe, it might help to make it come true.”
“Then we’ll all believe,” said Helen, “and I’m sure glad to be the means,—in a small way,—of helping my country toward peace!”
“One can scarcely call it more than a small way,” Herron said, mock-judicially, “and yet it’s as much as many of us do. Even if we’re willing, we can’t perform. I’m ready to fly to the ends of the earth for my old Uncle Sam, but I have to await orders.”