"That is not the way a soldier reasons. Some one must go to the front of the battle. And what excuse can such a vigorous young fellow as I am have for hanging back?"
As he turned his glowing face upon her she caught his enthusiasm, and said impulsively, "And in the front of the battle I would be, if I were a man, as I often wish I were."
"The line of God's battle with evil is very long, Miss Marsden. I think you can find the front in New York as truly as I in the West. In this fight woman can often do as much as man. Won't you try?"
"I shall not promise you anything," she said. "You must wait and see."
They were now before the parsonage in the hamlet of Scrub Oaks. The sound of the bells brought Mrs. Dlimm's faded face to the window, and on recognizing them she clapped her hands for joy, as one of her own children might have done; and a moment later was smiling upon the little porch, the very embodiment of welcome.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A RATIONALIST OF THE OLD SCHOOL.
"I knew you would come," said Mrs. Dlimm, taking both of Lottie's hands with utter absence of formality. "Husband said I needn't look for you any more, but I felt it in my bones—no, my heart—that you would come. When I feel a thing is going to take place it always does. So you are here. I am very glad to see your—Mr. Hemstead—too. This is splendid." And Mrs. Dlimm exultantly ushered Lottie into the room that, when last seen, was crowded with such a motley assembly. Hemstead meanwhile drove the horse to an adjacent shed.
"But he isn't my Mr. Hemstead," said Lottie, laughing.
"Well, it seems as if he were related, or belonged to you in some way. When I think of one, I can't help thinking of the other."