beyond her own, and stammered: "I'd like to see the world
and--and--well, just to see all the wonderful things--and to know
everything."

Tom Burton's lips stiffened. "A long time ago a couple of people lived
in the Garden of Eden," he said shortly. "And I reckon what Eve said
wasn't much diff'rent from that. Well, they moved away all right."

There was a long silence in the room, and the father at last broke it
with his eyes fixed on his eldest son.

"Those great men you talk about, Ham--" he spoke with deliberate
gravity--"them fellers you seem to think are sort of brothers of
yours--most of them came to times when they saw things topplin' down all
round 'em. They sent your Napoleon to St. Helena an' a lot of others
didn't do much better in the long run. Julius Cæsar was pretty great an'
pretty ambitious. He fell. There's a heap to be said fer livin' straight
an' simple. We're self-respectin' men an' women with clean blood in our
veins that don't have to bow down to no man. We've lived honest an'
worked hard, but sometimes when spring comes on an' I'm followin' the
plow an' the blackbirds are followin' me along the furrow, I feel like
God ain't so far away. When they buries me out there amongst those I've
loved an' been true to, I reckon I'll rest."

"Your father," the son reminded him, "wasn't a young feller when Lincoln
called for volunteers, but he didn't stay here because he wanted to
rest. He went, an' now he's restin' down there at Shiloh. I want to
answer my call. I'm willin' to take my chance of restin' where death
finds me."