Part 48 (1/2)

”Oh, Chi!” broke from Mrs. Blossom and Rose. They cried out as if hurt.

Mr. Blossom grasped Chi's right hand, and March wrung the other.

”I can't stand it,” he went on; ”we 've been sa.s.sed enough as a nation, 'n' some of us have got to teach those foreigners we ain't goin' to turn the other cheek just coz we're slapped on one. When I wasn't higher than Budd, my great-grandfather--you remember him, Ben, lived the other side of the Mountain--put his father's old Revolution'ry musket (the one, you know, Rose-pose, as I 've used in the N.B.B.O.O.) into my hands, 'n' says: 'Don't you stand no sa.s.s, Malachi Graham, from no foreigners.--Just shoot away, 'n' holler, ”Hands off” every time, 'n'

they 'll learn their lesson easy and early, 'n' respect you in the end.'

And I ain't forgot it.”

”Chi,” Mrs. Blossom's voice was tremulous, ”you won't go till you 're asked, or needed, will you?”

”I ain't goin' to wait to be asked, Mis' Blossom; I 'd rather be on hand to be refused. That's my way. So I thought I 'd be gettin' down along this week--”

”This week!” Rose interrupted him with a cry and a half-sob. ”Oh, Chi!

dear old Chi! _must_ you go? What if--what if--” Rose's voice broke, and Chi gulped down a big lump, but answered, cheerily:

”Well, Rose-pose, _what if_? Ain't I Old Put? 'n' ain't you Molly Stark? 'n' ain't Lady-bird Barbara Frietchie?--There, just read that--”

he handed a letter to March, who gave it back to him, saying, in a husky voice, that it was too dark to read.

”Well, then we 'll adjourn into the house, 'n' light up.--There now,” he said, as he lighted the lamp and set it on the table beside March, ”here's your letter, Markis, read ahead.”

March read with broken voice:

4 EAST --TH STREET, NEW YORK, May 5, 1898.

DEAR FRIEND CHI,--I never thought when I joined the N.B.B.O.O. Society, that I 'd have to be really brave about real war;--and now dear old Jack is going off to Cuba with Little Shaver and all those cow-boys,--and it's dreadful! Uncle John is about sick over it, for, you know, Jack is all he has. Papa is going to keep the house open all summer; he says there is no telling what may happen.

We have made no plans for the summer, for our hearts are so heavy on Jack's account--his last year in Harvard, too! He told me to tell you he would find out if there is a chance for you in the new cavalry regiment he has joined. He looked so pleased when I told him; he read your letter, and I told him how you wanted to go with him, and he said: ”Dear old Chi, I'd like to have him for my bunkie”--and told me what it meant.

He told me to tell you to be prepared for a telegram at any moment.

I must stop now; papa wants me to go out with him. Give my love to _all_, and tell Mother Blossom and Rose I will write them more particulars in a few days.

If you come to New York, you know a room will be ready for you in the home of your

Loving friend, HAZEL CLYDE.

There was silence for a while in the room; then Mr. Blossom spoke:

”How are you going, Chi?”

”I 'm goin' to jog along down with Fleet, 'n' take it kind of easy--thought I 'd cross the Mountain, 'n' strike in on the old post-road; 'n' follow on down by old Ticonderogy,--I 've always wanted to see that,--then across to Saratogy 'n' Albany, 'n' foller the river.

You can't go amiss of New York if you stick to that.”

Again there was a prolonged silence. Chi hemmed, and moved uneasily on his chair, while he fumbled about in his trousers' pocket. He pulled out a piece of crumpled, yellow paper.

”S'pose I might just as well make a clean breast of it.” He tried to laugh, but it was a failure. ”Jack's telegram came along last night, 'n' I thought, maybe I 'd better be gettin' my duds together to-night, Mis' Blossom, as 't will be a mighty early start--before any of you are up,” he added, hastily.

The two women broke down then, and Mr. Blossom and March followed Chi out to the barn.