Her Volunteer
The flags fluttered listlessly in the warm spring air, and the little group on Jean Perry's piazza was scarcely more energetic. There was a martial significance in the atmosphere, for the heavy tread of battalions reverberated in the hearts of those who had seen one war, and came forth with sudden force to those who were about to live through it for the first time. Yet, the few who lounged in hammocks spoke in depreciation.
"The regular army is enough," said one; "that's what those fellows are for. As for me, I'm not anxious to be shot at. I would rather be excused."
Two or three of the others agreed, but Jack Terrence was watching Jean with grave trouble in his face. At the first sneering comment her eyes had flashed and then filled; now her breast was heaving with excitement, and her sensitive mouth was quivering.
A passing breeze stirred the scarlet veined folds of the flag above her, and for a moment it seemed to wave in proud defiance. But even as the century of its glorious history came back to her, one of the men looking at it reminiscently, was moved to languid speech.
"Funny thing, that rag up there—I suppose it really means a great deal to some people!"
"Do you honestly think so?" Jean's voice carried a note of fearful scorn. "I am proud to say that I am one of the people to whom it means something—more than your little mind can comprehend. If I could die fighting for it, and have it wrapped round me at the last, it would be glory enough for one small life, but I'm only a miserable woman, and I have to stay at home. Why ar'n't you in the ranks, fighting like a man? What do you think would become of your country if all the men were like you?" She ended convincingly.
The astonished individual whom she addressed made the earliest exit compatible with his dignity. The girls followed by twos and threes, and at last the time came to which Terrence had looked forward for an hour—a solitary moment with Jean.
"Let's go down to the river," he said, after waiting for her to speak. He took possession of her in the calm, masterful way that rests and soothes a nervous woman, and as his ring on her finger gave him the right to do. He found her hat and put it on her unresisting head without jabbing her with the pins, for which, even in her excitement, she was dimly grateful.