"Emmeline," commanded her mother, "be still!"
"He insulted me! He's a rebel!"
"Emmeline," commanded Mrs. Willing again, "be still!" Then from her mother's lips came an incredible order: "Go and fill the water pail, and bring it here with a dipper."
"Mother!" gasped Emmeline. "Are we going to give them water?"
"Go, Emmeline!"
"They are the enemies of my country!"
"Go!" said Emmeline's mother.
When Mrs. Willing spoke in that tone, even Henry, who was a man, moved swiftly. Emmeline looked up into her mother's face, but her mother was not looking down at her. Her eyes were turned toward the street, toward that apparently unending line of weariness and raggedness and burning eyes. She saw only the men's hunger, their thirst, their need.
When Emmeline returned, her mother told her to put the pail under the tree at the edge of the pavement; as she stood there waiting, with her mother's hand on her shoulder, her eyes flamed and her heart fumed. But no soldier stopped to drink.
"Go offer them water, Emmeline."