ay, for she will think of her own babies--"

"Yes, yes," Elizabeth cried, "I am thinking!"

"--That is why he must not stay over there. There are so many babies.
I am going over there now."

The letter that followed this one was a week delayed.

"Dear John," it said,--"you must be looking out for another place. If
anything should--he is very sick, John! And I could not stay here
without him. Nor Anne. John, would you ever think that Anne was born
a nurse? Well, the Lord made her one. I have found it out. Not with a
little dainty white cap on, and a nurse's apron,--not that kind, but
with light, cool fingers and a great, tender heart. That is the
Lord's kind, and it's Anne. She is taking beautiful care of our
Little Blue Overalls. The little mother and I appreciate Anne. But he
is very very sick, John.

"I could not stay here. Why, there isn't a spot that wouldn't remind
me! There's a faint little path worn in the grass beside the
stone-wall where he has been 'sentry.' There's a bare spot under the
horse-chestnut where he played blacksmith and 'shoe-ed' the
saw-horse. And he used to pounce out on me from behind the old elm
and demand my money or my life,--he was a highwayman the first time I
saw him. I've bought rose-pies and horse-chestnut apples of him on
the front door-steps. We've played circus in the barn. We've been
Indians and gypsies and Rough Riders all over the place. You must
look round for another one, John. I can't stay here.

"Here's Anne. She says he is asleep now. Before he went he sent word
to me that he was a wounded soldier, and he _wished_ I'd make a red
cross and sew it on Anne's sleeve. I must go and make it. Good-bye.
The letter will not smell good because I shall fumigate it, on
account of Elizabeth's babies. You need not be afraid."

There was no letter at all the next week, early or late, and they
were afraid Little Blue Overalls was dead. Elizabeth hugged her
babies close and cried softly over their little, bright heads. Then
shortly afterwards the telegram came, and she laughed--and
cried--over that. It was as welcome as it was guiltless of
punctuation:

"Thank the Lord John Little Blue Overalls is going to get well."

Chapter II

The Boy

The trail of the Boy was always entirely distinct, but on this
especial morning it lay over house, porch, barn--everything. The
Mother followed it up, stooping to gather the miscellany of boyish
belongings into her apron. She had a del