Her mood of absorbed anger was suddenly broken by Billy’s joyous cry:
“Hurrah for John Vassar, sis. Me for West Point! Will you make him appoint me?”
She turned in sudden rage and boxed her young brother’s ears, smiled at his surprise, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She boxed his ears for crying hurrah for Vassar. She kissed him for the compliment of her supposed power over the coming statesman.
To hide her confusion she began at once a heated argument over the infamies of a military régime. The quarrel broke the peaceful scene of a game of checkers between the father and mother in the sitting-room, and brought the older people into the hall:
“In heaven’s name, Virginia!” her father exclaimed. “What is the matter?”
“Read it”—she answered angrily, thrusting the paper into his hand.
The Grand Army veteran read with sparkling eyes.
“Good!” he shouted.
“That’s what I say, father!” Billy echoed.
“It’s absurd,” Virginia protested. “War on this country is impossible. It’s unthinkable—”