"Only, somethin'
inside o' me, I guess 'twas my heart, kept bleedin' an' cryin' out that my
boy should have been among them--my little brown-eyed Willie who used to
sit out in the sun readin' every minute he could get. I can see him now,
sittin' there, jest as if 'twas yesterday--" Her voice trailed off, and in
a silence eloquent with sympathy the girls waited for her to go on.
"But I wanted to tell those boys too," she cried, straightening up with
sudden fire, "that my Willie wasn't only a reader an' as bright as a
dollar,--he could fight, too. He'd have made a soldier to be proud of.
"It wouldn't be near so bad," she added, turning to the girls with such a
depth of tragedy in her eyes that their hearts bled for her, "if I could
only be sure o' his bein' dead. It's the heartbreak of not knowin' that's
goin' to kill me in the end!
"But there," she said, catching herself up as though ashamed of the
outburst, "seems like I talk to you little ladies more'n I ever talked to
anybody else in all my life. Seems like it's jest been bottled up inside
o' me so long it's jest got to come out.
"I wish you'd tell me," she added, looking at them wistfully, "when it
bothers you, an' I'll jest bottle it all up again twice as tight as 'twas
before."
"Oh, please," cried Amy, taking one of the work-worn hands and pressing it
earnestly between her own warm ones. "We just feel honored to think that
you trust us enough and like us enough to tell us these things.
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