"Not quite so small, my man," Harold answered, laying his hand gently on
the child's head. "Your mamma was about the size of your Aunt Rosie,
yonder, and I some three or four years older."
"We've been down to the brook where you played together--you and mamma and
Aunt Sophie," said Elsie. "Papa took us, and I think it's a lovely place
to play."
"Sophie and I have talked over those dear old times more than once, of
late," Harold remarked, turning to Mrs. Travilla. "It does not seem so
very long ago, and yet--how many changes! how we are changed! Well, Rosie,
what is it?" for she was standing by his chair, waiting with eager face
till he should be ready to attend to her.
"Uncle Harold, do you feel able to tell us the story about your being a
prisoner, and how you got free, and back to the Union army?" she asked,
with persuasive look and tone. "Papa and mamma, and all of us that haven't
heard it, would like so much to hear it, if it won't tire you to talk so
long."
"It is not a long story; and as my lungs are sound, I do not think it will
fatigue me, if you will all come near enough to hear me in my ordinary
tone of voice."
They drew around him, protesting against his making the effort, unless
fully equal to it; as another time would do quite as well.
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