“I know I’m not worthy of you,” David sighed.
“I don’t mean that, and you know I don’t,” Emily replied indignantly. “It has nothing to do with me! I want you to be worthy of yourself, of your grandpa Hiram!”
“But how?” complained David. “What chance has a twenty-five dollar a week clerk—”
It was a year before the Spanish-American War, while the patriots of Cuba were fighting the mother country for their independence.
“If I were a Son of the Revolution,” said Emily, “I’d go to Cuba and help free it.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” cried David. “If I did that I’d lose my job, and we’d never be able to marry. Besides, what’s Cuba done for me? All I know about Cuba is, I once smoked a Cuban cigar and it made me ill.”
“Did Lafayette talk like that?” demanded Emily. “Did he ask what have the American rebels ever done for me?”
“If I were in Lafayette’s class,” sighed David, “I wouldn’t be selling automatic punches.”
“There’s your trouble,” declared Emily. “You lack self-confidence. You’re too humble, you’ve got fighting blood and you ought to keep saying to yourself, ‘Blood will tell,’ and the first thing you know, it will tell! You might begin by going into politics in your ward. Or, you could join the militia. That takes only one night a week, and then, if we did go to war with Spain, you’d get a commission, and come back a captain!”
Emily’s eyes were beautiful with delight. But the sight gave David no pleasure. In genuine distress, he shook his head.