"Yes, sah! I guess you'll have to, sah, sump-in' seems de matter wid my eyes," said G. W. "You jes' read it, Colonel. Read it slow an' exactly what it done say, kase I doan't want any mistake, sah, 'bout dis sort ob thing."
"All right, old man,—just tell me if I go too fast."
Then the Colonel began:
"To George Washington McKinley Jones,
private in the Ninth Infantry:
"Dear Sir: The enclosed are for you. They were made in Uncle Sam's workshop, just where all the brave boys have theirs made"—
"You reads too fast, Colonel!" gasped G. W., tiny drops of perspiration standing out on his face.
The Colonel began again at the beginning, and then went on, reading slowly:
"I am sure they will fit, because a little messenger brought me the measurements. Accept them with our love, and wear them like the hero you will certainly be some day. There is just one way you can thank us; bring Colonel Austin home to us safe and sound, well and strong. See that he obeys you where this is concerned. We wish him to do his duty, but do not let anything happen to him.
"God bless you, little soldier! That is the daily wish of
"The Boy and his Mother."
There was silence in the tent.
Then said the Colonel, "Well, why don't you open the box, G. W.?"
The boy was kneeling before the box, but his eyes were fastened upon a photograph on the rude table. It was a photograph of "the Boy and his Mother," G. W. felt certain; and he was realizing that these two, far away in the unknown, had spoken to him.