“I don’t believe he has done any such thing, mother,” protested John.

“I feel almost certain about it, now.  If the boy wanted to go, and couldn’t stay at home, he ought to have told me so.”

“He did say he wanted to go.”

“I didn’t think he really meant it.  I want my boys to love their country, and be ready to fight for it.  Much as I should hate to part with them, if they are needed, they may go; but I don’t like to have them run away and leave me in this mean way.  I shouldn’t feel half so bad if I knew Thomas was in the army now, as I do to think he ran away from home, just as though he had done some mean thing.  I am willing he should go, and he wouldn’t be a son of mine if he wasn’t ready to go and fight for his country, and die for her too, if there was any need of it.  I didn’t think Thomas would serve me in this way.”

“I don’t believe he has.”

“I know he’s gone.  I like his spunk, but if he had only come to me and said he must go, I wouldn’t have said a word; but to go off without bidding us good by—­it’s too bad, and I didn’t think Thomas would do such a thing.”

Mrs. Somers rose from her chair, and paced the room in the highest state of agitation and excitement.  The rockers were not adequate to the duty required of them, and nothing less than the whole floor of the kitchen was sufficient for the proper venting of her emotion.

“Do you mean to say, mother, that you would have given him leave to go, even if he had teased you for a month?” asked John.

“Certainly I should,” replied his mother, stopping short in the middle of the floor.  “I’m ready and willing to have my boys fight for their country, but I don’t want them to sneak off as though they had been robbing a hen-roost, and without even saying good by to me.”

“If Tom were here, do you mean to say you would let him go?” demanded John, earnestly.

“Certainly I do; I mean so.  But I don’t think there is any need of boys like him going, when there are men enough to do the fighting.”

“You told Tom he shouldn’t go.”

“Well, I didn’t think he really meant it.  If he had—­What’s that, John?” asked she, suddenly, as a noise at the window attracted her attention.

“Only the cat, mother.”

“If Thomas or you had asked me in earnest, and there was need of your going, I wouldn’t have kept either of you at home.  I would go to the poorhouse first.  My father and my brother both fought for their country, and my sons shall when their country wants them.”

“Then you are willing Tom should go?”

“I am, but not to have him sneak off like a sheep-stealer.”

“Three cheers for you, mother!” shouted Thomas, as he threw up the window at which he had been standing for some ten minutes listening to this interesting conversation.

“Where have you been, Thomas?” exclaimed the delighted mother.