I thought they were trying to have fun with me.
'Thank you!' said I, 'but what is the joke?'
'No joke,' he said. 'It's to honour a hero.'
'Oh, you wish me to give it to somebody.'
I was warming with embarrassment
'We wish you to keep it,' he answered.
In accounts of the battle I had seen some notice of my leading a
charge but my fame had gone farther - much farther indeed - than I
knew. I stood a moment laughing - an odd sort of laugh it was that
had in it the salt of tears - and waving my hand to the many who
were now calling my name.
In the uproar of cheers and waving of handkerchiefs I could not
find Uncle Eb for a moment. When I saw him in the breaking
crowd he was cheering lustily and waving his hat above his head.
His enthusiasm increased when I stood before him. As I was
greeting him I heard a lively rustle of skirts. Two dainty, gloved
hands laid hold of mine; a sweet voice spoke my name. There,
beside me, stood the tall, erect figure of Hope. Our eyes met and,
before there was any thinking of propriety, I had her in my arms
and was kissing her and she was kissing me.
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