"Yes, dear—Harry—is—over there—waiting."
"His Mamma-Annie's boy—they were all against him. He can't stay back here alone—he needs me, doctor—help me to wait for him—"
"Listen, dear—Harry's gone."
"Where?"
"Why—over there—just as your intuition told you."
She pulled at the sheet with fingers as fleshless as the feet of a bird, moving her lips, vainly at first, and suddenly jerked herself up with a strength no doctor would have conceded her.
"He's dead, Lilly. My boy's dead. Please—please—it is so—isn't it? My boy's dead?"
"Yes."
"I knew it. Oh, Annie, you're the mother of a soldier. God wouldn't let me leave him back here—alone. I wouldn't have left him. There wasn't any good ahead for him. That's why I wanted him to die like a soldier. Before he should come to the bad places ahead. I can go so easy now. I'm done. God fixed it for me—Lilly."
She held the racked old form to her, kissed away tears that the washed old eyes could hardly yield, made a couch of her arms, and held her close so that their heartbeats met.