O, it was dreadful to shut his eyes and fancy him lying so cold and still on that bloody battle-field! Would all this awful thing be true to-morrow morning, when he waked up?
"O, mamma," sobbed the desolate child, "I and Grace will take care of you! Just forgive me, ma, and I'll be the best kind of a boy. I will, I will!"
Grandma had already led Grace away into the green chamber, where aunt Madge sat with the baby. The poor little girl would not be comforted.
"O, grandma," she cried, "if we could know who it was that shot pa our mayor would hang him! I do wish I could die, grandma. I don't want to keep living and living in this great world, without my father!"
CHAPTER IX.
THE BLUE BOOK.
Days passed, but there was the same hush upon the house. Everybody moved about softly, and spoke in low tones. Horace was not told that he must go to school, but he knew aunt Louise thought his shoes made a great deal of noise, and just now he wanted to please even her. More than that, it was very pleasant to see the boys; and while he was playing games he forgot his sorrow, and forgot his mother's sad face. There was one thing, however, which he could not do: he had not the heart to be captain, and drill his company, just now.
"Horace," said Grace, as they were sitting on the piazza steps one morning, "I heard ma tell grandma yesterday, you'd been a better boy this week than you had been before since—since—pa went away."