She was a patriotic woman; but no doubt she wished the glowing news from Port Royal had never reached the ears of her son. She had endured all the agonizing suspense which only the wife of an absent husband and the mother of an absent soldier-boy can comprehend; and she would fain keep this remaining son by her side to sustain and soothe her by his presence. She hoped he was not needed; she tried to persuade herself that John belonged to her, now that his twin-brother had joined the army: yet the New England blood in her veins would not let her be selfish, if the country needed his services. She knew what John was thinking about, and she knew that the oft-repeated question was about to be proposed with more emphasis than ever before: Would she consent to his entering the navy? He had asked her permission twenty times during the summer and autumn, and she had as often silenced him by pointing to the work required to be done upon the little farm. But now the corn and cabbages, the potatoes and the apples, had all been harvested, and she could no longer detain him upon the plea that his services were needed at home; for there was hardly work enough about the place to give Gran’ther Greene, who was now in better health than usual, the exercise which was needed to keep him alive. “Mother, aren’t you ashamed of me?” said John, suddenly dropping his knife and biscuit, and looking steadily at Mrs. Somers, who was gathering up the dishes on the other side of the table. “Ashamed of you, my son? What ails the boy?” exclaimed she, pausing in her occupation, and gazing at him with all a mother’s pride visible in her expression. “Aren’t you ashamed to have a son loafing about home when the navy is short of sailors? I can hand, reef, and steer, and I know the mainmast from the jolly-boat. I’ve been one voyage with father in a square-rigged vessel, and two in a ‘fore-and-after.’ I can make a long splice, a short splice, an eye-splice, a Turk’s head, or a Jacob’s ladder. I know where to find the halyards and braces, the clewlines, buntlines, and gowlines. I know all about it, mother. Now, aren’t you ashamed to have me lubbering round here like a dandy in a hay-field?” “No: I’m sure I am not,” replied Mrs. Somers with emphasis. “You have been a good boy, and worked hard all summer.” “But I haven’t had anything to do for a week but stow my grub and pick my teeth.” “It won’t hurt you to lie still for a week or two.” “Well, mother, I want to go into the navy; and I think I shall be just as safe there as I shall at home, and be earning something all the time, too.” “I should think you’d rather be at home than off to sea this winter. Don’t you hear the wind howl outdoors?”