“But what had that man on the floor been doing?” asked Belle.
“I do not know, dear. Misbehaving in some way which deserved punishment.”
“The soldier-policeman said he had been shut up four times for—for—in—su—such a long word I can’t remember it, Uncle Horace, and I didn’t know what it meant,” said Bessie.
“Insubordination?” said the Colonel.
“Yes, sir: what does it mean?”
“Disobeying orders, or being impertinent, and so forth,” said the Colonel.
“And we’d better not ask the General to let them come out of that dark house?” said Belle.
“No, I think not,” said the Colonel. “They would not have been shut up if it had not been necessary, and we had better let the matter rest. We can do no good by interfering.”
So thought the Colonel, believing and knowing that discipline must be sternly kept up; knowing nothing the while of the good which had already been done,—of the tiny seed unconsciously dropped upon the hard and stony ground of an obstinate heart, but which had brought “forth fruit meet for repentance.”