“Don’t you see how illogical that is. We cannot dislike everyone who did not go into the army.”
“No, I know that.” Ruth pondered a moment and then broke out, laughing: “Why, mamma, I have given two reasons for not liking Mr. Bolter, and you did not give any for disliking Captain Thurston.”
“That is different,” replied Mrs. Welch, gravely, though she did not explain precisely how, and perhaps Ruth did not see it.
“Mamma,” burst out Ruth, warmly, her face glowing, “I believe in a man’s fighting for what he believes right. If I had been a man when the war broke out I should have gone into it, and if I had lived at the South I should have fought for the South.”
“Ruth!” exclaimed her mother, deeply shocked.
“I would, mamma, I know I would, and you would too; for I know how much trouble you took to get an exchange for that young boy, Mr. Jacquelin or something, that Miss Bush, the nurse, was interested in.”
“Ruth, I hope I shall never hear you say that again,” protested Mrs. Welch, warmly. “You do not understand.”
“I think I do—I won’t say it again—but I have wanted to say it for a long time, and I feel so much better for having said it, mamma.”
So the conversation ended.