“Ah, yes,” murmured the old man.  “Florence Nightingale will live long in song and story.  An angel of mercy she was, through all the horrors of the Crimean War; but she was an English woman, my dear.  The one I mean is an American, and her name ought to go down in history with the bravest of its patriots and the most honoured of its benefactors.  I learned to know her first in that long siege at Strasburg.  She nursed me there, and I have followed her career with grateful interest ever since, noting with admiration all that she has done for her country and humanity the world over.

“If America ever writes a woman’s name in her temple of fame, dear child (I say it with uncovered head), that one should be the name of Clara Barton.”

The old soldier lifted his hat as he spoke, and replaced it so solemnly that Lloyd felt very uncomfortable, as if she were in some way to blame for not knowing and admiring this Red Cross nurse of whom she had never heard.  Her face flushed, and much embarrassed, she drew the toe of her slipper along Hero’s back, answering, in an abused tone: 

“But, Majah, how could I be expected to know anything about her?  There is nothing in ou’ school-books, and nobody told me, and Papa Jack won’t let me read the newspapahs, they’re so full of horrible murdahs and things.  So how could I evah find out?  I couldn’t learn everything in twelve yeahs, and that’s all the longah I’ve lived.”

The Major laughed.  “Forgive me, little one!” he cried, seeing the distress and embarrassment in her face.  “A thousand pardons!  The fault is not yours, but your country’s, that it has not taught its children to honour its benefactor as she deserves.  I am glad that it has been given to me to tell you the story of one of the most beautiful things that ever happened in Switzerland—­the founding of the Red Cross.  You will remember it with greater interest, I am sure, because, while I talk, the cross of the Swiss flag floats over us, and it was here in this old town of Geneva the merciful work had its beginning.”

Lloyd settled herself to listen, still stroking Hero’s back with her slipper toe.

“He was my friend, Henri Durant, and in the old days of chivalry they would have made him knight for the noble thought that sprang to flower in his heart and to fruitage in so worthy a deed.  He was travelling in Italy years ago, and happening to be near the place where the battle of Solferino was fought, he was so touched by the sufferings of the wounded that he stopped to help care for them in the hospitals.  The sights he saw there were horrible.  The wounded men could not be cared for properly.  They died by the hundreds, because there were not enough nurses and surgeons and food.

“It moved him to write a book which was translated into several languages.  People of many countries became interested and were aroused to a desire to do something to relieve the deadly consequences of war.  Then he called a meeting of all the nations of Europe.  That was over thirty years ago.  Sixteen of the great powers sent men to represent them.  They met here in Geneva and signed a treaty.  One by one other countries followed their example, until now forty governments are pledged to keep the promises of the Red Cross.