He put his hand into the inside pocket of his handsome coat and drew forth a sheet of closely written paper. It was a letter from Aunt Clarissa. Not only a letter, but a speech, a tirade, an eloquent exhortation. It contained little news that could give comfort, for it told of George's wicked behavior, and base defection to the ranks of the enemy arrayed against the Crown. "A Frothingham should be fighting for the King," the letter concluded, the lines heavily underscored. Poor Aunt Clarissa! Her most tender point, her pride, had been injured deeply.
"Mark my words, my dear sir, I have seen that country, and know its people," said Uncle Daniel, sententiously, "and as soldiers I hold them in contempt, sir. Who is this Mr. Washington on whom they pin their faith? An arrant up-start who has had some practice, I believe, in fighting the red Indians in the woods. Against a line of grenadiers he can do nothing. I wish I were young enough; I should like to take the field myself."
William pricked up his ears at this, and thrust Aunt Clarissa's letter back into his pocket. Never had he known that Uncle David had the slightest leaning toward the life of a soldier.
The military gentleman poured himself out another glass of wine. He held it critically up to the light before replying.
"I don't hold them in contempt, Mr. Frothingham. It will take our bravest and our best, mark me. We can accomplish little by depending upon the Hessians, mere hirelings of a German prince. Nothing but the devotion of Englishmen themselves can save the Colonies to England."
"You have been influenced, Colonel, by the Earl of Chatham," said Daniel Frothingham, also pouring out a glass of wine.
"I admire him," said the other, calmly; "but no half-way measures will suffice at this stage of the proceedings. We will need the best blood and the truest hearts in the country. If France joins in the struggle, it will come near to draining the resources of our tidy little island; but the French King wavers, I believe. The Americans, so far, have accomplished nothing." He turned to the young figure at the head of the table. "Has this tall nephew of yours any predilection for the service?" he inquired. "Me-thinks he would look well in red and white."
William's eyes glistened brightly.
"WOULDST CARE TO BE A SOLDIER, SON?"