Now, go on with the story and see what happened.
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“Always Carry This With You”
Promptly at two-fifteen, Miss Helpem arrived at the station with an ambulance full of bandages, and just in time to see the Brave family bidding good-bye to Private Ima Brave. All the family were there, even Michael, the big bulldog. Private Brave was among the last of the soldiers to board the little train.
“You’ll write from New York, dear,” begged his mother, kissing him for the twentieth time, and slipping a little American Red Cross first-aid outfit in his hand. “Always carry this with you, and remember how your mother loves you.”
“And you’ll send me picture postcards from everywhere, won’t you?” begged little Ibee Brave, standing on tip-toe to get a better view of his tall, straight brother.
“There’s a speck of dust on your uniform,” fussed Soami, his little sister, as she brushed him with her handkerchief.
Private Brave smiled. “We’re not on dress parade, little sister,” he said. “It’s good that khaki doesn’t show the dust, for it’s a dusty country we’re going to.”
“‘It’s a long, long way to Mexico, it’s a long way to go,’” began little Ibee; but at that moment the engine whistled, and his father clasped Private Brave’s hand.