“Practice flight, at camp. Nobody knows any particulars. Cy Jones told Father.” The boy’s voice sounded dry and hard.
“Are they certain there is no mistake?” his mother asked quietly.
“I guess it’s true. Cy said the Gordons had a telegram.”
“I must go over at once.” Mrs. Cameron rose, putting the letters into Laura’s hands, and took off her apron.
“I’ll bring the car around for you,” said Henry.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him and turned to the girls. “You know what we are having for dinner, Laura. Priscilla 128 will help make the shortcake, I’m sure. I will be back as soon as I can.”
Mutely the four watched the little car roll out of the yard and down the hill.
Then Henry spoke. “Letters?”
“From Bob,” said Laura.
“Did she read ’em?”