"No," was the gentle answer, "but I want to live to see my Boy a fine strong man," she paused, stooped, and drew him into her arms.
There was something in her tones that brought a lump into his throat. The moon was shining in the full white glory of the Southern spring. A night of marvellous beauty enfolded the little cabin. He looked into her eyes and they were shining with tears.
"What's the matter?" he asked tenderly.
"Nothing, Boy, I'm just dreaming of you!"
The first day of the fall in his sixth year he asked his mother to let him go to the next corn-shucking.
"You're too little a boy."
"I can shuck corn," he stoutly argued.
"You'll be good, if I let you go?" she asked.
"What's to hurt me there?"