"I don't know, sissy, but I'm afraid not. Emmyline, would you"—Private Christy blushed like a boy—"would you give me a kiss?"
"I will give you a dozen!" cried Emmeline.
Then, beside the lumbering wagon, Private Christy marched away. A soldier leaned on his arm before he left the porch; before he had left the gate he had given his staff to another. Bereft, Emmeline watched him go. Once he turned and nodded his head to her, and then marched on.
Private Christy looked up at the lowering sky. In a moment he felt on his cheek the first drop of the advancing torrent. Then the heavens opened on the great generals and the marching soldiers and the wounded in their open wagons.
Emmeline stood upon the step until the tall, gray figure with his wagon and his wounded had vanished in the mist. She was drenched, but she dared not go inside. She guessed why those sufferers had been left behind! And night was coming and all the world would be dark and dreadful. Emmeline could hear the ticking of Grandmother Willing's clock on the kitchen shelf and the sound of deep, anguished breathing.
Then she heard footsteps, and turned in fright. Not one of those sick men could even raise his head—who was it who came upon her so stealthily and suddenly? Through the kitchen approached a tall figure in a blue suit, with a bandaged head. Private Christy had not left his "arm" without protection.
"Henry!" cried Emmeline.
"Little Emmeline!" said Henry.
EMMELINE WATCHED HIM GO