The girls were silent, not knowing how to comfort the poor old woman.

“Perhaps,” said Amy at last, scarcely knowing what she was saying, yet trying so hard to comfort, “he is a soldier somewhere.  There are so many thousands of them, you know.”

Mrs. Sanderson turned to her with such fierce emotion in her eyes that the girl unconsciously shrank back.

“If I thought that,” she said, her voice tense, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that the knuckles showed white, “I’d be willing, glad, to die the next minute.  If I could just see my boy in uniform—­even if I knew I could never see him again—­” her voice trailed off, and once more the light died out of her eyes.

“But, of course, that’s impossible,” she said wearily.  “If my boy had been alive, he’d have come back to me.  But that wasn’t why I came in to see you so early,” she added after a moment, straightening up with that indomitable courage that had won, first, the girls’ admiration, then their love.  “I jest wanted to find out when ’twas the boys was startin’.”

“We’re not quite sure.  The boys thought some time between nine and ten o’clock, but they didn’t seem to be at all sure about it.  The only thing we really know is that they’re going to start early,” Betty answered.

“Thank you, dear.”  The old lady rose, and when she started for the door Mollie ran before her and opened it.

When she had gone, the girls sat still, just looking at each other for a few minutes.  Then—­

“Isn’t she wonderful?” breathed Betty.  “After all these years she would give him up gladly for the sake of her country.  That’s real patriotism.”

“She deserves to get him back,” murmured Mollie, as though speaking to herself.

“Well, that’s just the reason she won’t,” said Grace, irritably struggling with an unruly lock of hair.  “Nobody ever gets what he deserves in this awful world.  What is the matter with my hair this morning?  It looks just exactly as I feel.”

“Oh, come away from the mirror, Gracie,” cried Betty, putting an arm about her and dragging her, an unwilling victim, out into the hall.  “You’ll feel better after you’ve had your breakfast.  And remember,” she added diplomatically, “there’s a brand new box of candy in your left-hand dresser drawer.”

The ruse worked, and a smile forced its way through Grace’s discontent.  Then a sudden thought struck her and the smile flickered and went out altogether.

“It was Roy’s parting gift,” she said, striving to speak lightly, though her voice trembled ever so little.  “You know, Betty,” she said in a rare burst of confidence, “I never had the slightest idea I could feel so really b-bad—­” her eyes filled and she brushed her hand across them impatiently.

“Am I not a goose?” she asked plaintively, and Betty, trying to laugh, choked, too, and abandoned the attempt.

Then they both smiled, an April sort of uncertain smile and went in to breakfast.