"You are very, very kind, both you and Mr. Coddington," she answered. "I have no words to thank you; but believe me, while I heartily appreciate your generosity, I feel that too much has already been done for Nat and me--far more than I should have accepted had I realized that it was Mr. Coddington himself and not the company who was doing it. Do not consider me ungracious in being unwilling to add this favor to the others. I would rather be under obligations to you and Mr. Coddington than to any one else in the world if it were possible. Nat shall go. The trip will be a wonderful education for him and he will, I am sure, work hard in the future to repay you for your kindness; but I could not accept such a gift." Unconsciously Mrs. Jackson's chin lifted, and her figure drew itself up. "Oh, but _I_ want you to go," broke in Peter. Smiling, she shook her head. "I think, if you will pardon my frankness, you are making too much of a very slight thing, Mrs. Jackson," declared Mr. Coddington. "Come, be honest. You are too proud to accept this trip from Mrs. Coddington and me. Isn't that it? You doubt her wanting you as a traveling companion. But there you wrong her. She really does want you. It would be a genuine favor to her, and the obligation would be entirely on our side, you see." "I think your kindness blinds you to your real motive, Mr. Coddington," Mrs. Jackson returned. "Then listen. I will tell you a story. Long ago, at the time of the Civil War, my father----" Mrs. Jackson started, then recovered herself; but there was no question that his words had caught her keenest attention. Imperturbably he went on with his tale. "My father, who was a fearless young Northerner, was sent forward to carry a dispatch through the Southern lines. It was a dangerous mission and on the delivery of that message depended not alone his honor but a large measure of the success of the Northern cause. He pledged his life to carry that word. All went well until quite without warning he found himself in a rebel ambush. He made his escape but in so doing was seriously wounded and nothing but the speed of his horse prevented his recapture. His enemies were still hot in pursuit when he found he could go no further. Then when he saw his strength failing and knew the struggle was useless he took a desperate chance. A plantation stood in his path and he rode up to the house and begged for aid. Now it happened that the owners of that plantation, although Southerners, were in sympathy with the Northern cause; not only did they take in the wounded man and nurse him back to life, but the son of the family, a daring lad, ventured to continue the ride through the lines and deliver the stranger's message." Mr. Coddington paused a moment. "And did he succeed?" cried Peter breathlessly. "Yes." "Oh, it was splendid! Think of a boy's doing a thing like that for his country!" "And a boy not much older than you either, Peter," added Mrs. Jackson eagerly.