from all the people around," said Mr. Ringgan, sighing, "and
they felt it too, I used to notice, without knowing it. When
his cousins were 'Sam,' and 'Johnny,' and 'Bill,' he was
always, that is after he grew up, '_Mr. Walter_.' I believe they
were a little afeard of him. And with all his bravery and fire
he could be as gentle as a woman."

"I know that," said Fleda, whose eyes were dropping soft tears
and glittering at the same time with gratified feeling. "What
made him be a soldier, grandpa? "

"Oh, I don't know, dear! — he was too good to make a farmer of
— or his high spirit wanted to rise in the world — he couldn't
rest without trying to be something more than other folks. I
don't know whether people are any happier for it."

"Did _he_ go to West Point, grandpa?"

"No, dear! — he started without having so much of a push as
that; but he was one of those that don't need any pushing; he
would have worked his way up, put him anywhere you would, and
he did, — over the heads of West Pointers and all, and would
have gone to the top, I verily believe, if he had lived long
enough. He was as fine a fellow as there was in all the army.
_I_ don't believe there's the like of him left in it."

"He had been a major a good while, hadn't be, grandpa?"

"Yes. It was just after he was made captain that he went to
Albany, and there he saw your mother. She and her sister, your