"Yes, little sweetheart?"
"When is a daddy coming home? It's awfully hard to write letters. He's been gone a long time now, hasn't he, mother dear?"
"Yes, dearie…. A long, long time." The violet eyes were sad.
"'Most a year?" persisted the little one.
Her mother smiled a little, wanly.
"It seems like it, doesn't it?" she said. "But it's only two months—not only two months," she corrected; "but two months."
Came a little pause. It was broken again by Muriel.
"Mother, dear."
"Yes?"
"Can't I make the rest just kisses?"