"Not bad for an Englishman, Norman. You know we licked England twice——"
"And we kin do it again, b' gosh, can't we?" blustered the younger man with mock heroics.
"You can bet we can, my son!" continued the Colonel, quietly. "The roar of Dewey's guns are echoing round the world this morning. The lesson will not be lost. You will observe that even your English poet foresees at last our salvation.
"'And in the teeth of all the schools
I—I shall save him at the last!'"
"Even in spite of the Socialists?" queried the boy, with a grin.
"In spite of every foe—even those within our own household. War is the searchlight of history, the great revealer of national life, of hidden strength and unexpected weakness. I saw it in the Civil conflict—I've seen it in this little struggle——"
"Then you do acknowledge it's not the greatest struggle in history—that's something to be thankful for in these days of patriotism," exclaimed Norman, rising and stretching himself before the open fire while he winked mischievously at Elena.
"It's big enough, my boy, to show us the truth about our nation. Our old problems are no longer real. The Union our fathers dreamed has come at last. We are one people—one out of many—and we can whip Spain before breakfast——"
"With one hand tied behind our back!" laughed the boy.
"Yes, and blindfolded. It will be easy. But the next serious job will be to bury a half million deluded fools in this country who call themselves Socialists."