Nearly every morning after this, even if only for a few minutes, Elsie would trot in to see "Aunt Mary," who grew to look for her coming with interest.
"They won't let me fight in the Wars of the Roses," she said one day in her pretty baby fashion, "and I'm ra'ver glad, after all, 'cause I love you very much."
"You are too little for a soldier, Elsie," said Mrs. Wilfrid in an amused tone.
"Yes, I 'spect I am. Mother says it is very wrong to quarrel and fight, and that we must try to love one another."
"Your mother is quite right, little one," answered her aunt gently.
At this moment a visitor called, and little Elsie was bidden to go upstairs and talk to Rachel, who was busy at needlework.
"Rachel," she said, after they had chatted on various subjects, "did you know my three brothers were soldiers."
"No, little missie, I never heard tell of it before," replied Rachel.
"Yes, they are, their army is called the Wars of the Roses, 'cause, you see, Hugh made Frank and Ronald promise to fight—"
"Then, dearie, if I may make so bold," interrupted nurse, "Master Hugh is old enough to know better."