Angela merely laughed and resumed her march with the refugees. If they could live she could.
Tommaso threw up his hands in despair and returned to his drill.
At noon Vassar approached at the head of a division of raw troops. The road was lined with cheering people. He halted his men at the gate, dismounted and entered the Holland lawn, hoping against hope for a word with Virginia. He watched for a moment old Holland at the pathetic task of drilling his blue and gray veterans.
“It won’t do, Mr. Holland,” he said with a smile. “Your fighting is done—”
“Nonsense!” Holland protested. “I’ll show you—”
He put his line of veterans through the manual of arms and one of them fainted.
Vassar slipped his arm about him tenderly.
“It’s no use. I need your guns. Give them to me—”
Tommaso marched in and took the half-dozen guns against the bitter protests of the old men.
They gathered at the gate and cheered and cried as the boys answered the assembly call.