She wanted the little boy to be rested and refreshed by food before she told him a very painful thing. Then she took him upstairs with her into her own chamber, which was quite shady with grape-vines, and so still that you could only hear the buzzing of two or three flies.
She had brought a hot bowl of gruel on a little waiter. She placed the waiter on the top of her wash-stand, and seated herself on the bed, drawing Horace down beside her.
"My dear little grandson," said she, stroking his bright hair, "God has been very good to you always, always. He loves you better than you can even think."
"Yes, grandma," answered Horace, bewildered.
"He is your dear father in heaven," she added, slowly. "He wants you to love him with all your heart, for now—you have no other father!"
Horace sprang up from the bed, his eyes wild with fear and surprise, yet having no idea what she meant.
"Why, my father's captain in the army! He's down South!"
"But have you never thought, dear, that he might be shot?"
"No, I never," cried Horace, running to the window and back again in great excitement. "Mr. Evans said they'd put him in colonel. He was coming home in six months. He couldn't be shot."
"My dear little boy!"