[She begins to sew on the coat.
Char. I suppose I needn't ask in whose command you are going? I know you will say Morgan's. But how about your rank—will you be just a private?
Bev. Not just a private; though, of course, I'll be that if I can be nothing else. George told me when all was ready and my mother said I might, that I could come with him. I'd be one of the scouts, the color bearer; that's the place I want—(he grows more and more excited)—to hold the flag; to feel it was my own, my very own; to feel and touch and carry. Do you know, Charlotte, I believe I'd think George most as great a man as Morgan if he'd take me with him in his company and let me have the flag.
Char. Perhaps he will. I'll speak for you; he loves to do the things I want; and, yes, I'm sure he'll take you for his color-bearer.
Bev. Where's father, Fair? I must go tell him now before he goes away. He'll say that I can go; I know he will. And mother: I'll tell her, too. Where are they?
Fair (quietly). I think they're in the garden by Phil's grave. They always go there near this time.
[Exit Bev through gate.
Char. Oh, Fair, it's hard, hard for us all, and most of all for you. I sometimes wonder how you can be so brave. We've given Phil, and now your father and George and Carter and Gordon—all of them in the army. Now that Bev wants to go, I don't see how we can bear that.
Fair (quietly). I sometimes think of it, and then a great wave of terror seems to pass over me and leave me frantic at the thought. I feel as though I must tear things with my hands and scream, and go out too with them and fight—just to be near them. And then I feel ashamed to seem so weak. And then I think about the day they brought Phil's body home, and how mother didn't shed a tear. She looked so strange and white, as we walked down through the garden to the grave, I took her hand; it was like marble! Then she looked down at Bev on one side and at me close by her on the other, and softly smiled—smiled as she does when she is very proud and pleased. She spoke just as we came close by the grave. We three stood very near to Phil, and as they lifted him, she spoke: "He was the first, and I have loved him best," and then she smiled again, and softly drew away her hand and laid it for one moment on the coffin, as though caressing it. Then bending close down by his side, she spoke, as though to him: "Well done, my own soldier man! The heavenly hosts are proud of your enlistment!" (A pause). You wonder then that I'm ashamed to show my fear of losing Bev?
Char. Heroes like that are born—not made.