just like this!"

"You sure can have me--mother," the big fellow said.

The conductor was giving the last call. Then the boy took her in his
arms and kissed her withered cheek, which took on a happy glow that
made us all look the other way.

She and I stood together and watched the grinding wheels as they began
to move. The spirit of youth, the indomitable, imperishable spirit of
youth was in her eyes, and glowed in her withered face as she murmured
happily,--

"I am one of the Next of Kin ... again, and my new boy is on that
train."

We stood together until the train had gone from our sight.

"Let me see," I said, "how many chickens did you tell me that Biddy
hen of yours had when the winter came?"

"Twenty-two," she laughed.

"Well," I said, "it's early yet."

"I just can't help it," she said seriously; "I have to be in it! After
I got the word about my last boy, it seemed for a few days that I had
come to the end of everything. I slept and slept and slept, just like
you do when you've had company at your house,--the very nicest
company, and they go away!--and you're so lonely and idle, and tired,
too, for you've been having such a good time you did not notice that
you were getting near the edge. That's how I felt; but after a week I
wanted to be working at something. I thought maybe the Lord had left
my hands quite free so I could help some one else.... You have played
croquet, haven't you? You know how the first person who gets out has
the privilege of coming back a 'rover,' and giving a hand to any one.
That's what I felt; I was a 'rover,' and you'd be surprised at all I
have found to do. There are so many soldiers' wives with children who
never get downtown to shop or see a play, without their children. I
have lots to do in that line, and it keeps me from thinking.

"I want you to come with me now," she went on, "to see a woman who has
something wrong with her that I can't find out. She has a sore
thought. Her man has been missing since September, and is now
officially reported killed. But there's something else bothering her."

"How do you know?" I asked.

She turned quickly toward me and said, "Have you any children?"

"Five," I said.

"Oh, well, then, you'll understand. Can't you tell by a child's cry
whether it is hungry, or hurt, or just mad?"

"I can, I think," I said.

"Well, that's how I know. She's in deep grief over her husband, but
there's more than that. Her eyes have a hurt look t