"Certainly not," said Mr. Bradford; "it would be unkind as well as dishonorable."
"Yes," said Maggie; "it is not to do to others as I would that they should do to me."
"Exactly, little woman," said her father, "and remember, dear children, that is a very safe rule to be guided by, when we do not feel sure whether a thing is fair or not."
"Bessie," said Fred, "tell us what ails the colonel. I suppose you know, for all the grown-uppers seem to be telling you their secrets."
"Why, that's not a secret! His leg is cut off."
"Don't think I don't know that. I mean, what makes him so grumpy? He isn't like the same fellow he was when he first came down here."
"Fred," said Bessie, giving him a reproving look, "you're not polite at all to talk that way about my soldier. He's not a fellow, only boys are fellows, and he's a big gentleman. And he's not that other thing you called him,—I sha'n't say it, because it is a very ugly word."
"And it's saucy to say it about the colonel," said Maggie.
"I don't care," said Fred. "It's true; isn't it, Hal? He used to be the best company in the world,—always ready to tell us boys stories by the hour, and full of his fun and jokes. But for the last few days he has been as solemn as an owl, with no fun to be had out of him, and if one can get him to talk, it always seems as if he were thinking of something else. He's as cross as a bear too. Now don't fire up, Bess; it's so. Starr, his man, says he was never half so impatient or hard to please all the time he was sick as he has been for the last ten days."
"Fred," said Mrs. Bradford, "you should not talk to a servant of his master's faults."