ow what I think," she continued, "I think Gertie
was the bravest one of the three."

"Why, Mumsey Halford--you know Gertie came in first of all." This was
more than Katy could stand.

"Exactly, that's why I think she was the bravest. She was brave enough
to stand being made fun of rather than be a foolish little girl and stay
out in the storm needlessly. Your courage and Jane's, too, was mostly
vanity, Katy dear. You wanted to show off--and each wanted to beat the
other. That is the kind of courage that gets people into trouble in this
world. The kind of courage I want my girls to have is the finer kind
that does some good. It is the kind of courage that makes men risk their
own lives to save people from drowning. Don't you remember, Katy, the
story I read you of the life-savers going out in the terrible storm to
get the people off a sinking ship? And you remember how thrilled you
were reading about the awful hardships of the patriots at Valley Forge?
Theirs was the courage to suffer for the sake of their country. Do you
suppose we would honor them today if they had half-starved themselves in
the snow that winter just for fun? And the courage which is not afraid
to refuse to do something wrong or silly, is just as necessary as the
courage to do. I guess Gertie is one ahead this time. Don't you think
so?"

The children were saved the pain of answering by the arrival of Ernest
with umbrella, water-proof, and rubbers for Chicken Little.

Mrs. Halford laughed merrily when she saw them.

"After all, children, I guess the joke is on me. I am afraid I didn't
have the courage to act at the proper time myself."

CHAPTER XVI

LETTERS AND A SURPRISE

The sitting room in the Morton home was cheerful with sunshine. It
brightened the conventional flowers of the old crimson Brussels carpet
into a semblance of life. It caught the gold outline of the wall paper
and lingered there--even the somber steel engravings reflected the light
from the polished glass over them. Mrs. Morton sat in her low rocking
chair by the window reading a letter from her husband.

She had read it through for the second time, and still she gazed at the
lines as if she could not quite comprehend their meaning. Her sewing had
dropped from her lap unheeded. Ernest, coming in search of her, called
three times before she noticed him.

"Yes, Son," she answered absently at last.

"What's the matter, Mother? Nothing wrong with Father is there?"

E