“Oh, no, no,” cried his mother. “I could stand up to very little. After all, it is only God that makes strong to endure.”
“But it is not quite the question of enduring, it is not the suffering, Mother. It is the killing. I don't believe I could kill a man, and yet in the Bible they were told to kill.”
“But surely, Larry, we read our Bible somewhat differently these days. Surely we have advanced since the days of Abraham. We do not find our Lord and master commanding men to kill.”
“But, Mother, in these present wars should not men defend their women and children from such outrages as we read about?”
“When it comes to the question of defending women and children it seems to me that the question is changed,” said his mother. “As to that I can never quite make up my mind, but generally speaking we hold that it is the Cross, not the sword, that will save the world from oppression and break the tyrant's power.”
“But after all, Mother,” replied Larry, “it was not Smithfield that saved England's freedom, but Naseby.”
“Perhaps both Naseby and Smithfield,” said his mother. “I am not very wise in these things.”
At the door of their house they came upon Nora sitting in the moonlight. “Did you meet Ernest and Mr. Romayne?” she inquired. “They've only gone five minutes or so. They walked down with us.”
“No, we did not meet them.”
“You must be tired after the wild excitement of the day, Mother,” said Nora. “I think you had better go at once to bed. As for me, I am going for a swim.”