John waited; he wanted to hear something more.
"Did many die, uncle?"
"Oh, yes. The men had fought McGregor about vaccination. Many died. There
was blindness too. Supplies failed--no one would come in from the farms."
John waited with the fear of defect in his ideal man. Then he ventured,
"And Aunt Ann, was she here?"
"No, I sent her away when I went to Milltown."
"Oh! you were there too, sir?"
"Yes, damn it!" He rarely swore at all. "Where did you suppose I would
be? But I lived in terror for a month--oh, in deadly fear!"
"Thank you, sir."
"Thank me, what for? Some forms of sudden danger make me gay, with all my
faculties at their best, but not that. I had to nurse Rivers; that was
the worst of it. You see, my son, I was a coward."
"I should like to be your kind of a coward, Uncle Jim."
"Well, it was awful. Let us talk of something else. I left your aunt
better, went to Washington, saw our Congressman, got your nomination to
West Point and a letter from Leila. Your aunt must be fast mending, for
she was making a long list of furniture for the new parsonage, and 'would
I see Ellen Lamb and'--eleven other things, the Lord knows what else,
and 'when could she return?' McGregor said in September, and I so wrote
to her; she will hate it.
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