"It is well Daisy was not born a boy!" Ransom said.
"I hope you will not make me wish you had been born a girl," my father replied. "Strength is no more noble when it ceases to be gentle."
"Must not every woman wish for peace?" I said. It was an unhappy attempt at a diversion, and if I had not been in a hurry I should not have made it.
"No," my mother answered, not sharply, but with cold distinctness. "Before the South should submit to the dictation or reproof of Northern boors and fanatics, I would take a musket myself and die in the trenches."
"It is an ugly place to die in, my dear," answered my father.
"See Daisy shiver!" Ransom exclaimed; and he burst into a laugh, "Mamma, Daisy's blood has grown thin at the North. She is not a true Southern woman. There is no fire in you, Daisy."
Not at that moment, for I was sick and cold, as he said. I could not get accustomed to these things, with all the practice I had.
"No fire in her?" said papa, calmly. "There is ammunition enough, Ransom. I don't want to see the fire, for my part. I am glad there is one of us that keeps cool. My darling, you look pale - what is it for?"
"Fire that burns with a blue flame," said mamma.
"Blue?" - said papa, with a look at me which somehow set us all to laughing.