I hated to tell him, but he pushed me
about it, so I finally got out her letter and read him the last
paragraph--but one. Of course the last one I wouldn't have read to
anybody.
"It's all right, Son, and we're proud as Punch of you, that you want
to be not only in America's '_First Hundred Thousand_,' but in
her '_First Ten Thousand_.' We know it will stiffen your spine
considerably to hear that your family are behind you. Well, we
are--just ranks and rows of us, with our heads up and the colours
waving. Even Grandfather and Grandmother are as gallant as veterans
about it. So go ahead--but come home first, if you can. You needn't
fear we shall make it hard for you--not we. We may offer you a good
deal of jelly, in our enthusiasm for you, but you could always stand a
good deal of jelly, you know, so there's no danger of our making a
jelly-fish of you--which wouldn't do, in the circumstances. That's
rather a poor joke, but I'll try to make a better one for you to laugh
at when you come. When shall we expect you? No--we won't have the
village band out, and will try not to look as if we had a hero in our
midst, but we shall be awfully glad to see Jack just the same."
When I looked up after reading this, Hoofy looked like a small boy
who's been staring in a shop-window at a fire-engine he can't have.
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