"That's way off," answered Private Christy. "That's miles off."
"It's near Gettysburg!" Emmeline now wept outright. "I have so many troubles I can't count them all. My mother is in danger and my brother is a prisoner—I am sure it was my brother! Perhaps my home is destroyed!"
"Oh, no, sissy!"
"Can I go down to the woods to find my brother?"
"I ain't in charge of that woods, Emmyline."
"Will they take him away?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know anything!" stormed Emmeline.
Private Christy's gray eyes twinkled. It was much better to hear Emmeline storm than to have to watch her cry.
Again Emmeline made biscuit and spread apple butter and carried her tray about the house; again she brought water and bathed hot faces. There was nothing else for her to do. If she cast a longing glance toward the woodland, Private Christy was beside her with his "Now, Emmyline!" In the middle of the morning Private Christy called her to the door and pointed to the ridge.