"I think I hear her now," said Glen, walking down to the gate, and flinging it open.
"Look at that boy!" said Stillwater. "See, how his face lights up!"
"It's only natural," answered Mrs. Stillwater. "They all feel like that towards Indiana."
"No," said Stillwater, watching Glen, "not just like that."
"Yes," interpolated Mrs. Bunker, "he's the same as the rest."
"No," persisted Mr. Stillwater. "Not quite the same. Look at him out there! He's a fine lad."
They glanced at him, standing bare-headed, holding the gate and watching. His small, finely shaped head, with its well-modeled features, showing in relief against the sycamore tree near the gate.
"He fought well for his country," continued Stillwater.
"There are others," said Mrs. Bunker tersely.
"That's all right," responded Stillwater, while the clatter of horses hoofs came nearer. "Not all of them went like him—willing to give their heart's blood."