"No; not all," exclaimed his mother, with an energy that quite surprised the little fellow. "There is one there who is the best, the truest, the noblest of men."
Her eyes sparkled, and a beautiful colour burned on her cheek. She sat with a proud air as if defying the world to say the contrary.
"Is he as good as father was?"
"About the same," replied Mrs. Breakspear, her features softening into a smile.
"Why, you have said that no one was ever so good as father."
"Have I? Well, this man is. There is no difference between them."
"If he is so good, why has he to work among all those bad men?"
"Some day, child, you shall know," replied his mother, folding him within her arms. "Don't ask any more questions, Idie."
"Why doesn't he run away?" persisted the little fellow.
"Because soldiers are there, who would shoot him down if he tried to escape," said Mrs. Breakspear with a shudder. "Come, let us be going. It is growing cold. See how the mist is rising!"