"Thank God he did!" "What will Mr.Washington and those gentlemen think of my servant telling my mother at home that I was going to fight a duel ?" asks Mr.
George, still in wrath.
"You have shown your proofs before, George," says Harry, respectfully.
"And, thank Heaven, you are not going to fight our old friend,--our grandfather's old friend.

For it was a mistake and there is no quarrel now, dear, is there?
You were unkind to him under a wrong impression." "I certainly acted under a wrong impression," owns George, "but----" "George! George Washington!" Harry here cries out, springing over the cabbage-garden towards the bowling-green, where the Colonel was stalking, and though we cannot hear him, we see him, with both his hands out, and with the eagerness of youth, and with a hundred blunders, and with love and affection thrilling in his honest voice we imagine the lad telling his tale to his friend.
There was a custom in those days which has disappeared from our manners now, but which then lingered.

When Harry had finished his artless story, his friend the Colonel took him fairly to his arms, and held him to his heart: and his voice faltered as he said, "Thank God, thank God for this!" "Oh, George," said Harry, who felt now how he loved his friend with all his heart, "how I wish I was going with you on the campaign!" The other pressed both the boy's hands, in a grasp of friendship, which each knew never would slacken.
Then the Colonel advanced, gravely holding out his hand to Harry's elder brother.

Perhaps Harry wondered that the two did not embrace as he and the Colonel had just done.

But, though hands were joined, the salutation was only formal and stern on both sides.
"I find I have done you a wrong, Colonel Washington," George said, "and must apologise, not for the error, but for much of my late behaviour which has resulted from it." "The error was mine! It was I who found that paper in your room, and showed it to George, and was jealous of you, Colonel.