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"What did you do at Hornellsville?"
"Various things."
"But what did you do to get the sword?"
"My duty!"
"Tell me?"
"I thought you knew all about me."
"I don't know this."
Peter only smiled at her.
"Tell me. If you don't, somebody else will. Please."
"Why, Dot, these are all presentation swords."
"Yes," said Peter; "and so gorgeous that I don't dare use them. I keep
the swords I wear at the armory."
"Are you going to tell me what you did to get them?"
"That one was given me by my company when I was made captain. That was
subscribed for by some friends. The one you have was given me by a
railroad."
"For what?"
"For doing my duty."
"Come, papa. We'll go home."
Peter surrendered. "There were some substitutes for strikers in freight
cars that were fitted up with bunks. The strikers fastened the doors on
them, and pushed them into a car-shed."
"And what did you do?"
"We rolled the cars back."
"I don't think that was much. Nothing to give a sword for.


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