“Mother sat a little while in silence. Then she came over, sat down beside me, and took me in her arms.
“‘Don’t cry, dear little Rilla-my-Rilla. You have nothing to reproach yourself with in regard to Fred; and if Leslie West's son asked you to keep your lips for him, I think you may consider yourself engaged to him. But—oh, my baby—my last little baby—I have lost you—the war has made a woman of you too soon.’
“I shall never be too much of a woman to find comfort in mother’s hugs. Nevertheless, when I saw Fred marching by two days later in the parade, my heart ached unbearably.
“But I’m glad mother thinks I’m really engaged to Ken!”
IT is two years tonight since the dance at the light, when Jack Elliott brought us news of the war. Do you remember, Miss Oliver?”
Cousin Sophia answered for Miss Oliver.
“Oh, indeed, Rilla, I remember that evening only too well, and you a-prancing down here to show off your party clothes. Didn’t I warn you that we could not tell what was before us? Little did you think that night what was before you.”
“Little did any of us think that,” said Susan sharply, “not being gifted with the power of prophecy. It does not require any great foresight, Sophia Craw-
