"Yes, two. Wanted to send them by Billy, but he's war-wild and wouldn't go." The Doctor looked over his letters.
"All right, I hope," said Mrs. Crocker.
Pole in his shirt sleeves listening said, "Of course, he is all right—doctors don't fight none."
"Send your son, Pole, before you talk nonsense," said McGregor. "My boy got a ball in his leg at Malvern Hill."
"My son's going along with the Squire," returned Pole, "leaves me short of help, and my wife's about crazy over it."
"What about Mrs. Penhallow?" said Mrs. Crocker. "I guess she's the kind that don't show what she feels."
"Oh, money's a great comforter," returned the butcher. "What I'm to do, I don't know."
"Well, I'm going too," said Joe Grace, "and father says I'm right."
"Oh, here's the parson," said Pole, as Rivers approached. "He's like the rest of them—all for war."
"Well, Pole," said Rivers, "how are you and Mrs. Crocker? I think you are getting thin this hot weather."