-by for good, you know," said he. "I shall
get a furlough, and come home and see you all, before I leave for the
seat of war with my regiment." Frank couldn't help feeling a sort of
pride in speaking of _his regiment_. "And may-be you will all visit
me in camp before I go."

"Come," called his father, at the door; "if we are going to catch this
car, we must be off."

So Frank abbreviated his adieus, and ran.

"Wait, wait!" screamed Willie, pulling his cap on "Me go, me go!"

"Go where, you little witch?" cried Helen.

"Me go to war, along with my bwother Fwank. Put down webellion," pouted
the child, shouldering his gun, and trudging out of the door in eager
haste, fearing lest he should be left behind.

Mrs. Manly was parting from her son on the doorstep, putting back a stray
curl from his cheek, smoothing his collar, and whispering, with wet eyes
and quivering lips, "My child, remember!"

"I will--good-by!" were Frank's last words; and he hastened after his
father, just pausing on the next corner to look around at the faces in
the door of his home, and wave his hat at them. There was Hattie, leaning
on Helen's arm, and waving her handkerchief, which was scarcely whiter
than that thin white face of hers; and there was his mother gazing after
him with steadfast eyes of affection and blessing, while her hands were
fully occupied in restraining that small but fiery patriot, Willie, who,
with his cap over his eyes, was vehemently struggling to go with his
bwother Fwank.

This was the tableau, the final picture of home, which remained imprinted
on Frank's memory. For the corner was passed, and the doorway and windows
of the dear old house, and the dearer faces there, were lost to sight. He
would have delayed, in order to get one more look; but already the
tinkling bells gave warning of the near approach of the horse-car, and he
and his father had no more than time to reach the Main Street, when it
came up, and stopped to take them in.

In but little more than an hour's time, by far the most important step in
Frank's life had been taken. He had enlisted.

"Well," said his father, after Frank, with a firm and steady hand, had
written his name, "it is done now. You are a brave boy!"--with a tear of
pride, as he regarded his handsome, spirited young volunteer, and thought
that not many fathers had such promising sons.

While they were at the recruiting office, one of their neighbors came in.

"What!" he exclaimed,