"No, darling, it is a hard word to speak."
"Will father say 'Good-bye' to Violet?"
"I suppose so. It is at least likely; but wherefore, darling child, dost thou ask Aunt Lizzie this question?"
"I do not want to say 'Good-bye,'" repeated Violet in the same sad voice. "It makes Violet cry to say 'Good-bye.'"
"Ah"—Aunt Lizzie paused with a little start as she suddenly recognized the cause of the child's distressful thoughts—"ah, I understand it. Violet would rather that there were no 'good-byes' said. Aunt Lizzie will tell father so, and he will understand what Violet wishes. Is not this what thou meanest, dearest child?"
Violet nodded her head. "Aunt Lizzie, what is Fritz shouting about over there at the window? and is not his father also going away to the war?"
"Yes, my child; and Fritz is screaming out that he will be a soldier too. He is a noisy lad, that Fritz."
"Violet wants to be a soldier too," said she in an almost inaudible voice; "but father is so long in coming, and Violet's heart goes so quick, Aunt Lizzie, and it makes her sick."
"Here, let me smooth thy hair." Her aunt stooped quickly and kissed the little white face. "Let me bathe thy face and put on a nice clean pinafore, and then thou wilt look so bright and fresh for father. And now try and drink this cup of milk. It will do thee good."
She offered the cup to her, but the child shook her head. "I could not drink it. All the morning something is in Violet's throat, just here, and she cannot make it go down."