The Outdoor Girls at the Hostess House | Page 8

have gone right on not telling anybody for the rest of my life.

Of course the Yates and Baldwins and all the folks that lived around us
knew it, so there was no use telling them--" Her voice trailed off and
her eyes sought the window with its vista of parade ground and low,
roughly built barracks buildings.
The girls looked at her. Never in their lives, they thought, had they
been so thoroughly interested in anything as they were in the secret
sorrow of this gentle old lady, the sorrow that brought that strange
cloud of unhappiness every time she mentioned this son of hers who
had run away.
"He must have been a pretty ungrateful sort," thought Mollie
resentfully, "to have run away from a mother who loved him like that."
Once more the old lady drew her eyes from the window and fixed them
on the circle of eager young faces.
"I suppose young things like you couldn't be expected to understand,"
she went on, "and yet perhaps you'll be interested more than other folks,
'count of your having met so many young boys."
"Oh, we are interested," they cried in chorus, at which the old woman's
face lighted up and she went on with more cheerfulness.
"Well, to begin with," she said, "we lived way at t'other end o' the
world. Danestown, it was called, and my husband--better man never
breathed--died when my little boy was only four years old. I wasn't so
young any more, for Willie was the youngest--the others had all died
when they was babies--and Willie's pa and me was getting along in
years when he come to us--the dearest, sweetest, prettiest baby you ever
set your eyes on.
"Well, we had managed to save some little money, though 'twasn't over
much at best, and with me workin' on the farm week days and Sundays,
we managed to get along pretty well. An' I was savin' pennies--" Here
the old voice trembled and nearly broke, so that it was some minutes
before the speaker could go on.

The girls tried hard to think of something to say, but as everything that
came to them sounded flat and inappropriate, they kept a sympathetic
silence--which was perhaps the best they could have done, after all.
"As I was sayin'," the old voice continued after a while, "I was
squeezin' every little penny I could from the bare necessities to lay
aside for the boy. You see, it had been his father's wish that Willie
should be given the chance neither of us had ever had to get some
schoolin' and have his chance in the world. I was hopin' that by the time
the boy grew up I might maybe have enough to send him to college.
"Of course," she added, with an air of apologizing for a weakness that
went straight to the girls' hearts, "they was only dreams. But I don't see
as there was any harm in them, seein's I always kept them to myself an'
never told anybody 'bout them--leastways, no one but Willie.
"Sometimes, on a winter night when the snow was fallin' outside an' the
wind was howlin' round the house, I used to draw Willie up to the big,
open fireplace we had in the kitchen and tell him 'bout his pa an' how
he had always wished for Willie to be a fine, big man.
"An' Willie, he'd listen with those big, earnest eyes o' his--such
beautiful eyes my Willie had--" Again the voice broke and trailed off
into silence while the girls sat and waited as before, only with a
stronger pity in their hearts for this faithful little old woman who had
loved so well--and lost.
"An' then," the voice continued, more softly and dreamily than before,
my little boy would reach up and pat my cheek, just like his father used
to do, and seems like I can hear his voice now, just as plain as I did all
those long, long years ago.
"'Maw,' he'd say, drawlin' a little in his cunnin' way, 'just don't you
worry. I'll do all those things, jest like pa said, an' then we'll go an' live
in a big house an' you won't have to work so hard any more--jest be
happy.'
"An' then he'd take my hand that was coarse an' rough from workin' in

the field and rub his soft little cheek against it an' look up at me, an' just
smile--"
There was a little sob from the spot where Amy was sitting
cross-legged on the floor, while the other girls were frankly and openly
crying and not even noticing it.
"He--he must have been a darling!" cried Betty, unsteadily.
"He was," answered the old lady simply. "It wasn't very long after that
he ran away,