"I tell you, Jennie, I was scared!" he was saying with boyish
earnestness. "You see a fellow never knows how he's going to come out of
a close place like that till he tries it. I had a fine uniform and I'd
learned the drill and all that--but I had not smelled brimstone at short
range. I didn't know how I'd do under fire. Now I know I'm a worthy
descendant of my old Scotch-Irish ancestor who held a British officer
before him for a shield and gracefully backed out of danger."
They stopped and gazed over the lazy, shimmering waters of the harbor.
Jennie looked up into his manly face with a glow of pride.
"You're splendid, Dick,--I'm proud of you!"
"Are you?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes. You're just like my brothers."
"Look here now, Jennie," he protested, "don't you go telling me that
you'll be a sister to me. I've got a lot of sisters at home and I don't
need any more--"
"I didn't mean it that way, Dick," she responded tenderly. "My brothers
are just the finest, bravest men that God ever made in this
world--that's what I meant."
"Don't you like me a little?"
"I almost love you to-night--maybe it's our victory--maybe it's the fear
that made me pray for you and the boys on that house top the other
night--I don't know--"
"Did you pray for me?" he asked softly.
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