Page:War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy, John Luther Long, 1913.djvu/109

THE PICNIC Jon and Dave had things to say, nevertheless, not warranted by Scripture, or their training, about secessionists and sympathizers getting even. But Evelyn said nothing—only I could feel her shaking.

"What do you think of this business, Evelyn?" asks I. "You got a good head."

"It was a bi—beautiful tri—tree, daddy, dear," she says, "and—and I think I will go to bed!"

And she starts right off, without another word, crying like a baby.

We were all stumped for a minute, and then, nice old Jon, as usual, fixes it.

"She loved that tree, daddy and Dave," and he puts his arms around both of us, and I know he was smiling that inward smile of his, "it was right before her window. She loved it just as she loves us—and, just as if one of us should be cut down in his strength, she weeps for it! Come! We can't quite weep. But we can understand her weeping—can't we, daddy and Dave? She loved it!" 93