“He is no blue-eyed baby, but a very plain ordinary-looking little chap, nine years old, whose mother died a few weeks ago, leaving him entirely alone in the world. Think of it, girls, a nine-year-old boy without any one to care for him! He’s lame too—but he is the bravest little soul! The nurse told me that they thought it was because he was so homesick—or rather I suppose mother-sick—that he is not getting on as well as he should.”
“O, the poor little fellow!” Frances Chapin said softly, thinking of her nine-year-old brother.
“Tell us more about him, Miss Laura,” Rose Anderson begged. “Did you talk with him?”
“Yes, I stayed with him for half an hour, and I promised to see him again to-morrow. He wanted a book—about soldiers. I wonder if any of you would care to go with me. You might possibly find your blue-eyed baby there; and anyhow, the children there love to have visitors—especially young ones.”
Two of the High School girls spoke together. “I’d like to go.”
“And I too,” added Alice Reynolds, the third.
“I guess I’d like to, maybe—if there isn’t anything catching there.” It was pretty little Annie Pearson who said that.
“I’d love to go, but I can’t,” Elizabeth whispered to Olga, who frowned at her and demanded,
“What do you want to go for?”
“I’d so love to do something for that little fellow,” Elizabeth answered. “I’ve been lonesome too—always—till now.”