“You are talking over their heads,� laughed Red Mayo.
“I am not sure of that,� said Black Mayo, looking at David’s thoughtful face. “And if I am, it is not a bad thing for young folks to have things above them to grow up to.�
“Dick, get a chair for Cousin Alice Blair,� said Mrs. Osborne, as a fat, smiling woman waddled up the path. “She likes the big rocker. Get two chairs, son. There’s Miss Fanny coming down The Street, and she’ll stop to find out what we are talking about.�
Sure enough, Miss Fanny Morrison turned in at the gate. She was the Village seamstress, a blunt-featured, blunt-mannered, kind-hearted woman who lived with an invalid sister in a cottage across the street from the Osborne home.
“I saw you-all out here and I just had to come in,� she said. “Oh! you’re talking about this war. Is it really true that the United States is in it? Isn’t it awful? War is a terrible thing. I certainly am glad I don’t live in a country that is in it, I mean, really in it. My mother said that during The War they used to——� She carried the conversation away from the war that was convulsing the world, to their “The War,� fought before they were born.
“Did the supervisors appropriate money for our veterans to go to the Reunion, Mayo?� Mrs. Osborne asked presently.
“The treasury’s almost empty,� answered her husband. “They gave what they had. And we started a subscription to make up the deficit.�
“We can raise part of the money by selling lunches on the Green during court week,� said Mrs. Osborne.
Patsy spoke quickly. “Oh, no, mother! You forget I told you the school’s going to serve lunches that week for the Red Cross.�
Mrs. Osborne turned a surprised, indignant face to her daughter. “Why, my dear! Aren’t you patriotic enough to give up any other plans for the sake of our dear old Confederate soldiers?�