"I would stake everything on his bravery!" I said honestly, looking at the picture.
She came over and squeezed my hand.
"It was a wicked lie—all a lie!" she said bitterly.
"Tell us all about it," I said; "I am sure there has been a mistake."
She went quickly out of the room, and my old friend and I stared at each other without speaking. In a few minutes she came back with a "paper" in her hand, and, handing it to me, she said, "Read that and you'll see what they say!"
I read the announcement which stated that her husband had been missing since September 29, and was now believed to have been killed. "This is just what is sent to every one—" I began, but she interrupted me.
"Look here!" she cried, leaning over my shoulder and pointing to the two words "marginally noted"—"What does that mean?"
I read it over again:—
"We regret to inform you that the soldier marginally noted, who has been declared missing since September 29, is now believed to have been killed!"
"There!" she cried, "can't you see?" pointing again to the two words. "Don't you see what that means?—margin means the edge—and that means that Fred was noted for being always on the edge of the army, trying to escape, I suppose. But that's a lie, for Fred was not that kind, I tell you—he was no coward!"