WAR
certain, and that kept you-all safe, but with you two in the Union army it can only be Dave."
At first Jon seems scared by that. But then he smiles and says:
"Kushy—kushy! Why, Dave knows no more about war and spying than a baby. He hasn't been here. How could he be suspected? And every one is aware of that. There's only one thing he knows since he came home."
"What's that?" asks Evelyn, sharp and quick.
"To love you," says nice old Jon. "And don't you think that every one who sees or knows him sees and knows that too? A spy can not be in love or thinking of marriage."
But all the answer he gets to that is shrieking, that we have killed her, killed Dave, killed most everybody and thing on earth.
"Then," says Jon, soft and nice, "what do you think ought to be done to avert suspicion, if daddy and I have made a mistake?"
"Can't you see?" shrieks Evelyn. "Mallory must enlist—Mallory, Mallory, Mallory—in
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