"That's what they call us," returned her father, with a smile, "and though not a very euphonious name, I, for one, prefer it to John Bull."
"So do I," she said.
"But Jonathan's a boy's name," objected Ned sturdily. "Men and boys can be Jonathans, but women and girls can't."
"Well, I don't want to be," said Elsie. "It isn't a pretty name; but John Bull's worse. Grandma, haven't you another little story to tell us?"
"One more, which I found in Lossing's book," replied Grandma Elsie pleasantly. "He says it is related that while cannonading was going on, the shot striking thick and fast around the fort, a negro was seen on its roof. He stood near a chimney, watching the firing of the British on the other side of the river, and whenever he saw the smoke of a cannon would spring behind the chimney till the shot had struck, then peep out again.
"At length one struck the top of the chimney just over his head, tore it to pieces, and covered him with brick and mortar. He jumped aside, shaking himself free, as well as he might, from the dust and rubbish, and exclaiming: 'What de debble you doin' up dar?' then hastened away to find a safer spot."
"Wasn't that a bad, swearing word, grandma?" queried Ned.
"It was not a nice word," she answered. "I should be sorry indeed to hear it used by my sons or grandsons."
"My papa never says such words, nor Maxie, nor any of my relations, and I don't mean ever, ever to say them," said the little fellow, looking up into his father's face.