“Now, I’m coming to the point. As I told you just now, I believe that nothing but war can solve this problem. It doesn’t matter which side begins it, just so the fight comes. If the North won’t do it because of the South’s insults, then we must make the South strike the first blow. She must be irritated to the limit of endurance, and this Underground work seems to me the most efficient way of doing it. That’s chiefly why I’m in it, Rhoda. It’s something, of course, to help individual slaves on to liberty, but I’m looking for the big result. And I’ll be very glad to have your help, so that I can begin to do something a little more worth while. I’ve been waiting anxiously for you to make up your mind about young Delavan, for the situation here is important.” She looked at him with wide eyes, her breath coming fast. “And you never said a word to me about it!” He got up and took a turn or two across the room. “Of course not. It was necessary for you to fight the question out for yourself.” They heard Mrs. Ware’s voice on the veranda, softly calling Rhoda. The girl rose and started toward the door, but stopped beside him. “I’ll help you, father.” Her head was held high, her figure was erect and her young countenance was almost solemn in its earnestness. Half consciously she put out her hand. Instantly her father gripped it and they stood like two men pledging faith. It was the nearest they had ever come to mutual expression of sentiment. Again they heard Mrs. Ware’s voice, nearing the door, and Rhoda, calling out, “I’m coming, mother,” dropped her father’s hand and rushed from the room before self-consciousness had time to mar their moment of high resolve and close communion. Dr. Ware gazed after her thoughtfully as he sank into his desk chair. “Heredity was bound to tell, sooner or later,” he said to himself, “and she’s got her full share of the New England conscience. How that Puritan conscience does flourish in the blood of us New Englanders, wherever we go! In its original form I reckon it was too strong a dose for the best results--a saturated solution, it was then. But now it’s diluted enough to be a first-rate general preservative of morals.” Mrs. Ware drew Rhoda to her side with an arm about her waist. “Jeff is here,” she whispered. “He’s waiting for you on the front veranda. Go up to your room by the back stairs, honey, and put on your pink dress. It’s very becoming.” When presently Rhoda came slowly downstairs again and through the hall to the front door she heard her mother saying to Jefferson Delavan, on the veranda: “Rhoda has some absurd, fanatical ideas about slavery that she has got from her father, Jeff, but I think you can hope for the answer you want. And you know, my dear boy, how much I want you to have it! I talked with her this morning--oh, here she is now. Come, Rhoda, dear! Jeff is waiting for you.”