“But then the people you know most about mayn’t be among the fighting men, even if you were a good judge of fighting,” said Jem. “Your eyes mayn’t be the best, you know.”
“Well, lend me your eyes, then, and don’t mind the people I know. Take the people you know, your father’s right hand men, who ought to be among the soldiers, if there are any. There is Mr Strong and old Penn, and the man who draws the mill logs. And all the people, women as well as men, ought to be wearing the armour and using the weapons. There is your friend, Miss Bethia, Davie; is she a warrior, too?”
“Aunt Bethia certainly is,” said Jem decidedly. “She is not afraid of—well, of principalities and powers, I tell you. Don’t she fight great—eh, Davie?”
“Aunt Bethia is a very good woman, and it depends on what you call fighting,” said David, dubiously.
“Yes, Miss Bethia is a soldier. And as for old Mr Penn, I’ve seen him fight very hard to keep awake in meeting,” said Jem, laughing.
“It is easy enough to make fun of it, but Aunt Mary was in earnest. Don’t you know about it, Davie?”
“About these people fighting, do you mean? Well, I once heard papa say that Mr Strong’s life was for many years a constant fight. And he said, too, that he was using the right weapons, and that he would doubtless win the victory. So you see there is one of them a soldier,” said David.
“It must be a different kind of warfare from your father’s,” said Frank. “I wonder what Mr Strong fights for?”
“But I think he is fighting the very same battle, only in a different way.”
“Well,” said Frank, “what about it?”