nd how nice that was, either, for you see you
didn't know how unhappy I had been. The girls hadn't been very friendly
with me. They told me I was "stuck up," and they said I was too young to
be in their classes anyway and ought to go to Kindergarten. It was all
very hard for me because I longed to be big and have them for my friends.
I was very lonely in that great big house with only my aunt and
grandfather for company. But the girls wouldn't be friends at all until
they saw you give me that rose, and that turned the tide. They were crazy
about you, every one of them, and, they made up to me after that and told
me their secrets and shared their lunch and we had great times. And it
was all because you gave me the rose that day. The rose itself was lovely
and I was tremendously happy over it for its own sake, but it meant a
whole lot to me besides, and opened the little world of school to my
longing feet. I always wanted to thank you for it, but you looked as if
you didn't want me to, so I never dared; and lately I wasn't quite sure
you knew me, because you never looked my way any more.

But when I saw you standing on the platform the other day with the other
drafted men, it all came over me how you were giving up the life you had
planned to go out and fight for me and other girls like me. I hadn't
thought of the war that way before, although, of course, I had heard that
thought expressed in speeches; but it never struck into my heart until I
saw the look on your face. It was a kind of "knightliness," if there is
such a word, and when I thought about it I realized it was the very same
look you had worn when you burst through the hedge after Chuck Woodcock,
and again when you came back and threw that rose on my desk. Although,
you had a big, broad boy's-grin on your face then, and were chewing gum I
remember quite distinctly; and the other day you looked so serious and
sorry as if it meant a great deal to you to go, but you were giving up
everything gladly without even thinking of hesitating. The look on your
face was a man's look, not a boy's.

It has meant so much to me to realize this last great thing that you are
doing for me and for the other girls of our country that I had to write
and tell you how much I appreciate it.

I have been wondering whether some one has been knitting you a sweater
yet, and the other things that they knit for soldiers; and if they
haven't, whether you would let me send them to you? It is t