"
The girls laughed unsteadily and Betty's young hand tightened on the old
one.
"We feel as if it all must be a fairy story," she said softly.
"That's jest what it is--a fairy story," cried the little old lady,
turning those wonder-filled eyes upon them.
"It must have seemed sort o' strange to you about the name," she added,
after a short pause.
Betty saw that Grace was about to interrupt, but a warning glance stopped
her.
"You see, his real name is William Mullins Sanderson. But when he ran away
he dropped the Sanderson so's they couldn't arrest him for somethin' he
didn't do--poor little lad." Her voice was very soft and her eyes
tender. "He would have come back to me, only he heard that I was dead and
thought 'twasn't any use. He said he'd jest been eatin' his heart out,
thinkin' of old days an' how he'd promised to make a fortune for us both
an' buy a big house where I wouldn't ever have to work again 'less I
wanted to. An' now he says," she straightened up and her eyes flashed with
pride in him, "he says, soon's the war is over he's goin' to make that old
dream come true.
"He'd been studyin' to be a lawyer, an' had jest passed his 'bar
exams'--so he called 'em--when the war broke out, an' he jes' couldn't
resist the call o' the bugle. O' course he couldn't!" Once more was heard
that thrill of pride. "Wasn't he my Willie boy, who had the blood of
fightin' ancestors in his veins as well as brains an' a love o' book
larnin' from his pa?
"But he says when the war's over he's goin' back to his books an' make
good, an'," with simple assurance; "I know he will.
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