“No, I haven’t forgot it, and I feel now just as I did then.  If there is any real need of your going, I am willing you should go.”

“Need?  Of course there is need of soldiers.  The President wasn’t joking when he called for seventy-five thousand men.”

“But there are enough to go without you.”

“That’s just what everybody might say, and then there wouldn’t be anybody to go.”

“But you are young, and not very strong.”

“I’m old enough, and strong enough.  When I can get a day to myself, I don’t think it’s any great hardship to carry father’s heavy fowling-piece from sunrise to sunset; and I guess I can stand it to carry a musket as long as any of them.”

“You are only a boy.”

“I shall be a man soon enough.”

“When you have gone, John will want to go too.”

“No, mother, I don’t want to go into the army,” said John, with a sly wink at his brother.  “I shall never be a soldier if I can help it.”

“What am I going to do, if you all go off and leave me?” added Mrs. Somers, trying hard to keep down a tear which was struggling for birth in her fountain of sorrows.

“I don’t think you will want for anything, mother.  I’m sure I wouldn’t leave you, if I thought you would.  I don’t get but two dollars and a half a week in the store, and I shall have eleven dollars a month in the army, and it won’t cost me any thing for board or clothes.  I will send every dollar I get home to you.”

“You are a good boy, Thomas,” replied Mrs. Somers, unable any longer to restrain the tear.

“I know you and John both will do every thing you can for me.  If your father was only at home, I should feel different about it.”

“He would believe in my fighting for my country, if he were here.”

“I know he would,” said Mrs. Somers, as she took the pen which Thomas handed her, and seated herself at the table.  “If you are determined to go, I suppose you will go, whether I am willing or not.”

“No, mother, I will not,” added Thomas, decidedly.  “I shouldn’t have signed the muster roll if you hadn’t said you were willing.  And if you say now that you won’t consent, I will take my name off the paper.”

“But you want to go—­don’t you?”

“I do; there’s no mistake about that:  but I won’t go if you are not willing.”

Mrs. Somers wrote her name upon the paper.  It was a slow and difficult operation to her, and during the time she was thus occupied, the rest of the family watched her in silent anxiety.  Perhaps, if she had not committed herself on the eventful night when she fully believed that Thomas had run away and joined the army, she might have offered more and stronger objections than she now urged.  But there was a vein of patriotism in her nature, which she had inherited from her father, who had fought at Bunker Hill, Brandywine, and Germantown, and which had been exemplified in the life of her brother; and this, more than any other consideration, induced her to sign the paper.