W. A. G.'s Tale

by Margaret Turnbull

Then I remembered what the boy had said, and I had to say it to Aunty May, and Aunty held me very tightly for a minute, and said to Mrs. Turner, "No: it wouldn't be safe for the other children. I'll keep William down here, until we see if it develops."

Then both the ladies nodded to each other very sadly, but Mr. Turner said, "Oh, he's a young husky. He'll be all right"; and they went away.

But I did develop. So much, that Aunty May had a sign put on the house, and nobody came near us for weeks and weeks but the nurse and the doctor, and Mr. Taylor, who used to hand things over the fence. And oh, how tired I got of being in bed, and being sick. Then when I got a little better, Aunty May and the doctor had a big tent put up in the woods near us, and the nurse went away, and Aunty May and I lived in the tent together, and I started to get better and write this book.

First, just a little at a time, and then by and by a good deal each day, and all the time Aunty May stayed with me, and never said I was naughty or anything. Just called me "Billy-boy" and spelled all the big words, and took care of me like I was a baby, because I was so weak.

One day, when I had sat up all day, dressed, I thought Aunty May looked kind of excited, and I saw a letter sticking out of her pocket, and I asked her if Aunty Edith was coming home, and she said, "Yes, very soon." She smiled so that I knew it must be something nice, so I clapped my hands and said, "Then Uncle Burt's all well again, too." For every time while I was sick, when I asked about Uncle Burt, Aunty May would say, "He's much better, but we mustn't talk." I had to be patient and wait then, but this day I said, "Oh. Aunty May, he is really better, isn't he?"

Then Aunty May laid down her letter and came and sat down by me and said, "Billy, how would you like to hear about Uncle Burt to-day?" and I told her, "I'd like to." Aunty May told me then that Uncle Burt had been shot very badly in the leg, and that he had a fever beside, and had been so ill that they thought he would die, but that Aunty Edith had gone out there and taken such good care of him that he was better, and was coming back with Aunty Edith. I asked for how long, and Aunty May got a little sad and said, "That's the hard part of it for Uncle Burt, Billy. He won't ever be able to go back to the army again. His leg is so badly hurt that he will always be a little lame."

Then Aunty May burst out crying, and so did I, for it seemed hard that big, splendid Uncle Burt should be lame. By and by Aunty told me that he had got the hurt when he turned back to help one of his men who had been shot; that even though he was hurt himself, he brought the soldier back to camp; so I ought to be proud of him.

But I was anyway, I told her. I couldn't be any more than I am. I knew Uncle Burt would do a thing like that. I just expected it of him. But I'd like to kill the man who hurt his leg.

Aunty May told me not to say that, for the poor thing had been killed, and she said, "War is a horrible thing," And I said, "Yes, 'm, but it wasn't a real war, only a skirmish"; and Aunty May said, "It was real enough for that poor wretch and for Burt."

I said, "But Uncle Burt'll find something else to do, some other way to be splendid, won't he?" And Aunty May just nodded her head, and we didn't say anything more for a long time and I lay still thinking about Uncle Burt and wondering how it would seem to be him, and lame. I said, "Will he use a crutch?" but Aunty May didn't know. She hoped not. And now, would I please get well, and be ready for her to hand me over whole to Uncle Burt.