Sinopsis

‘STRATEGY,’ growled the General, ‘is the comfort of heroes.’ ‘And the science of Generals,’ piped the little girl sitting crossed-legged at his feet. The old man looked down at her suspiciously under his white shaggy brows and chuckled. ‘I wish you were a boy,’ he complained. The little girl laughed shrilly and looked up at her grand- father with big shining eyes, for if Katharine Westhanger adored any human being in the world, it was the grim old man, white- maned and eagle-faced, whose constant companion she was. They sat under a big elm on a hot day in June.