He unhooked his team, and he and his mother started down the hill together, walking behind the horses. Though they had not been alone like this for a long while, she felt it best to talk about impersonal things.
“Don’t let me forget to give you an article about the execution of that English nurse.”
“Edith Cavell? I’ve read about it,” he answered listlessly.
“It’s nothing to be surprised at. If they could sink the Lusitania, they could shoot an English nurse, certainly.”
“Someway I feel as if this were different,” his mother murmured. “It’s like the hanging of John Brown. I wonder they could find soldiers to execute the sentence.”
“Oh, I guess they have plenty of such soldiers!”
Mrs. Wheeler looked up at him. “I don’t see how we can stay out of it much longer, do you? I suppose our army wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket, even if we could get it over. They tell us we can be more useful in our agriculture and manufactories than we could by going into the war. I only hope it isn’t campaign talk. I do distrust the Democrats.”
Claude laughed. “Why, Mother, I guess there’s no party politics in this.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never yet found a public question in which there wasn’t party politics. Well, we can only do our duty as it comes to us, and have faith. This field finishes your fall work?”
“Yes. I’ll have time to do some things about the place, now. I’m going to make a good ice-house and put up my own ice this winter.”
“Were you thinking of going up to Lincoln, for a little?”
“I guess not.”
