The letter was evidently exceedingly brief. A moment put Wilfred in possession of its contents. His mother stood with head averted. Caroline stared with trembling lips, a pale face, and a heaving bosom. It was to the orderly that Wilfred addressed himself.
“I am to go back with you?”
“General’s orders, sir,” answered the soldier, saluting, “to enter the service. God knows we need everybody now.”
“When do we start?” asked Wilfred eagerly, his face flushing as he realised that his fondest desire was now to be gratified.
“As soon as you are ready, sir. I am waiting.”
“I am ready now,” said Wilfred. He turned to his mother. “You won’t mind, mother,” he said, his own lips trembling a little for the first time at the sight of her grief.
Mrs. Varney shook her head. She stepped nearer to him, smoothed the hair back from his forehead, and stretched out her arms to him as if she fain would embrace him, but she controlled herself and handed him the cap and belt.
“Your brother,” she said slowly, “seems to be a little better. He wants you to take his cap and belt. I told him your father had sent for you, and I knew you would wish to go to the front at once.”
Wilfred took the belt from her trembling hands, and buckled it about him. His mother handed him the cap.
“Howard says he can get another belt when he wants it, and you are to have his blankets, too. I will go and get them.”