This was spoken so sincerely and affectionately that Frank felt those few words sink deeper into his soul than the most labored sermon could have done. Mr. Egglestone said no more, but putting his arm confidingly over the boy's shoulder, led him back to his mother.
And now the hour of parting had come. Frank's friends, including the minister, went with him to the cars. Arrived at the depot, they found it thronged with soldiers, and surrounded by crowds of citizens.
"O, mother!" said Frank, "you must see our drum-major, old Mr. Sinjin—my teacher, you know. There he is; I'll run and fetch him!"
He returned immediately, dragging after him the grizzled veteran, who seemed reluctant, and looked unusually stern.
"It's my mother and father, you know," said Frank. "They want to shake hands with you."
"What do they care for me?" said the old man, frowning.
Frank persisted, and introduced his father. The veteran returned Mr. Manly's salute with rigid military courtesy, without relaxing a muscle of his austere countenance.
"And this is my mother," said Frank.
With still more formal and lofty politeness, the old man bent his martial figure, and quite raised his cap from his old gray head.
"Madam, your very humble servant!"