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by Maude M. ButlerCHAPTER I.--HOME FROM THE WAR.
The war was over--the cruel, cruel war; and Father and Uncle Howard were on their way home. Children's voices, in every key of joy and thanksgiving, sang the happy news from morning to night. The white, strained look faded from Mother's face, and she became her old, bright self again.
Now that they were over, the children tried to forget how long and sad and weary the days had been during which the sight of the post-bag, and the morning newspaper, almost took everyone's breath away, until the columns of "War news" had been hastily scanned before taking letters and papers to Mother's room.
Then came the day when Uncle Howard's name was amongst the "seriously wounded," and there was a brief account of how he had saved the guns, and then returning into the firing line to pick up a wounded soldier, had himself been dangerously wounded.
The children thought of Uncle Howard's delicate young motherless boy, and sobbed: "Poor, poor Carol."
They did not know how to break the news to Mother, because Uncle Howard was her twin brother, and they all knew how dearly she loved him. Unperceived she had entered the room, and had learned the news for herself. The days that followed were darker than before, for it was not known for some weeks if Major Willmar would live or die. Gradually, slightly better news came, and he was pronounced out of danger. Later on it was announced he was ordered home, and Father, Colonel Mandeville, was coming with him.
As soon as the vessel left Cape Town the children began their happy, joyous preparations for the welcome home. Then, in the midst of them, when the triumphal arches were erected, awaiting only the final floral decorations, came a telegram from Gibraltar. Major Willmar had suffered a relapse at sea, and the doctors had not been able to save him. His body had been committed to the waves.
The war was over--the cruel, cruel war; and Father and Uncle Howard were on their way home. Children's voices, in every key of joy and thanksgiving, sang the happy news from morning to night. The white, strained look faded from Mother's face, and she became her old, bright self again.
Now that they were over, the children tried to forget how long and sad and weary the days had been during which the sight of the post-bag, and the morning newspaper, almost took everyone's breath away, until the columns of "War news" had been hastily scanned before taking letters and papers to Mother's room.
Then came the day when Uncle Howard's name was amongst the "seriously wounded," and there was a brief account of how he had saved the guns, and then returning into the firing line to pick up a wounded soldier, had himself been dangerously wounded.
The children thought of Uncle Howard's delicate young motherless boy, and sobbed: "Poor, poor Carol."
They did not know how to break the news to Mother, because Uncle Howard was her twin brother, and they all knew how dearly she loved him. Unperceived she had entered the room, and had learned the news for herself. The days that followed were darker than before, for it was not known for some weeks if Major Willmar would live or die. Gradually, slightly better news came, and he was pronounced out of danger. Later on it was announced he was ordered home, and Father, Colonel Mandeville, was coming with him.
As soon as the vessel left Cape Town the children began their happy, joyous preparations for the welcome home. Then, in the midst of them, when the triumphal arches were erected, awaiting only the final floral decorations, came a telegram from Gibraltar. Major Willmar had suffered a relapse at sea, and the doctors had not been able to save him. His body had been committed to the waves.
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