"But—" Grandfather interrupted his own sentence with a quavering laugh. Henrietta did not consider him a man!
Then he turned and went upstairs, forgetting his drink of water. He heard Henrietta's voice long afterward, and John's low answers. John wanted him to go, he did not blame John.
The next day he made a final plea. He followed John to the barn.
"Seems as if I might ride Harry," he said tentatively.
"O father, you couldn't," John answered gently. "You know how it will be, noise and confusion and excitement. Harry isn't used to it. You couldn't manage him."
"Seems as though if Dick goes, Harry ought to go, too. 'Tain't fair for Dick to go, and not Harry," he whispered childishly.
"I'm sorry, father," said John.
It was better that his father should be disappointed than that Henrietta should be opposed. His father would forget in a few days and Henrietta would remember for weeks.
The next day when the man came for Dick they found grandfather in the stable patting the horse and talking about the war. He watched Dick out of sight, and then sat down in his armchair on the porch whispering to himself.
The children protested vigorously when they found that the old man was not going, but they were soon silenced by their mother. Grandfather was old, it was much better that he should not go.