etter quicker than Samson did, and I shouldn't have tired Dodder so
much."

"Yes, I thought of that, Fred, but you are only a boy, and you were at
play."

There was a silence for a few moments, and then Fred spoke.

"Is it wrong for a boy to play, father?"

"Heaven forbid. No; of course not. Play goes with youth, and it gives
boys energy, strength, and decision. Yes, Fred, play while you can.
Manfully and well. But play."

Fred looked up at his father in a puzzled way, as he stopped short, and
began beating his side with the despatch he had received. There was a
dreamy look in his eyes, which were fixed on vacancy, as he muttered--

"Yes; I must be right. I have hesitated long, but it is a duty. But
what does it mean--friendships broken; the land in chaos; brother
against brother; perhaps father against son. No, no," he added, with a
shudder, as he turned sharply on his boy. "Fred, my lad," he tried, "if
trouble comes upon our land, and I have to take side with those who
fight--"

He stopped short.

"Who fight, father? You are not going to fight."

"I don't know yet, my boy; but if I do, it will be for those I believe
to be in the right. What I believe to be right, you, too, must believe
in, and follow."

"Of course, father," said the boy, quietly.

"No matter what is said against me, or how you may be influenced. I
know about these matters better than you do, and I shall ask you to
trust to me."

Fred smiled, as if his father's words amused him, for it seemed absurd
that he should have any opinion against his own father.

"Why, of course, I shall do as you tell me," he said, taking hold of his
father's arm, and they walked together into the house, where Mistress
Forrester, looking pale and large-eyed, was awaiting her husband's
return.

She did not speak, but looked up in his eyes with so eager and inquiring
an air that he bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Yes," he said.

"Oh, husband!"

"It cannot be avoided. My duty is with the people. That duty I must
do."

"But home--me--Fred?"

"You will be safe here," he said. "It is not likely that the tide of
trouble will flow this way."

"But Fred," she whispered.

"Fred. Ah, yes, Fred," said the colonel, thoughtfully.

"Oh no, no, no," cried Mistress Forrester, in agony, as she saw her
husband's hesitating way, and suspected the truth. "No, no, husband, he
is too young."

"He will grow older," said the colonel, with quiet f