No response was needed. The thing was done. We told the mother the story of the “Little Six” of Waterford, and asked her if that money with enough more to make up one hundred dollars would help her to get up her house? It was her turn to be speechless. At length with a struggling, choking voice she managed to say—“God knows how much it would be to me. Yes, with my good boys I can do it, and do it well.”
We put in her hands a check for this sum, and directed from the boat clean boxes of clothing and bedding, to help restore the household, when the house shall have been completed.
Before we left her, we asked if she would name her house when it would be done. She thought a second and caught the idea.
“Yes,” she replied quickly, with a really winsome smile on that worn and weary face, “yes, I shall name it ‘The Little Six.’”
And so, dear Mr. Camp, will you kindly tell those brave little philanthropic dramatists, that they are to have a house down on the banks of the great rolling river, and that one day, I think, will come a letter to tell them that another six children are nightly praying God to bless them for the home that will shelter them from the floods and the storms.
Sincerely and cordially yours,
Clara Barton.
In reply the following letters were received:
Waterford, Pa., March 25, 1884.
M.E. Camp, Editor of Erie Dispatch:
Dear Sir: The “Little Six” met yesterday and wrote the accompanying letter, which they would like to have you forward to Miss Clara Barton. They wish me to thank you for sending them copies of your paper containing Miss Barton’s beautiful letter to them. If you or Miss Barton ever had any doubts in regard to a child’s appreciation of favors shown, I wish you could have seen those bright, happy faces as they gave three cheers for “ye editor” and three times three for Miss Clara Barton and the “Home of the Little Six” on the banks of the Ohio.