w the risks and chances, not of the battlefield alone, but
of the havoc afterwards; the swearing away of innocent lives, and the
hurdle, and the hanging? And if I would please not to laugh (which was
so unkind of me), had I never heard of imprisonments, and torturing with
the cruel boot, and selling into slavery, where the sun and the lash
outvied one another in cutting a man to pieces? I replied that of all
these things I had heard, and would take especial care to steer me free
of all of them. My duty was all that I wished to do; and none could harm
me for doing that. And I begged my cousin to give me good-speed, instead
of talking dolefully. Upon this she changed her manner wholly, becoming
so lively and cheerful that I was convinced of her indifference, and
surprised even more than gratified.

'Go and earn your spurs, Cousin Ridd,' she said: 'you are strong enough
for anything. Which side is to have the benefit of your doughty arm?'

'Have I not told you, Ruth,' I answered, not being fond of this kind of
talk, more suitable for Lizzie, 'that I do not mean to join either side,
that is to say, until--'

'Until, as the common proverb goes, you know which way the cat will
jump. Oh, John Ridd! Oh, John Ridd!'

'Nothing of the sort,' said I: 'what a hurry you are in! I am for the
King of course.'

'But not enough to fight for him. Only enough to vote, I suppose, or
drink his health, or shout for him.'

'I can't make you out to-day, Cousin Ruth; you are nearly as bad as
Lizzie. You do not say any bitter things, but you seem to mean them.'

'No, cousin, think not so of me. It is far more likely that I say them,
without meaning them.'

'Anyhow, it is not like you. And I know not what I can have done in any
way, to vex you.'

'Dear me, nothing, Cousin Ridd; you never do anything to vex me.'

'Then I hope I shall do something now, Ruth, when I say good-bye. God
knows if we ever shall meet again, Ruth: but I hope we may.'

'To be sure we shall,' she answered in her brightest manner. 'Try not
to look wretched, John: you are as happy as a Maypole.'

'And you as a rose in May,' I said; 'and pretty nearly as pretty. Give
my love to Uncle Ben; and I trust him to keep on the winning side.'

'Of that you need have no misgivings. Never yet has he failed of it.
Now, Cousin Ridd, why go you not? You hurried me so at breakfast time?'

'My only reason for waiting, Ruth, is that you have not kissed me, as
you are almost bound