It was a common enough sight—a woman clinging to a child and crying—but Abner Sawyer was conscious of a swelling mutiny in his throat and a blur to his vision.
"Do-o-o-on't cry, Aunt Judith!" gulped Jimsy courageously. "I'll be as good as I know how. An' you'll be awful good to Stump, won't ye, Aunt Judith? He's lame an'—an' he's had a fierce life."
"Yes—yes—"
"An' tell Uncle Austin White I sent him good-by."
"Yes, Jimsy."
"An'—an' write me every week 'bout ol' Peggy an' Uncle Ab an'—an' you, Aunt Judith. Don't forget—"
"Everything, dear!"
"Go-o-o-oby, Aunt Judith!"
"Oh, Jimsy! Jimsy!"