go--for just one minute she
had been horribly frightened. And it was so nice to have Walter
confiding his troubles to her--to her, not Di. She didn't feel so
lonely and superfluous any longer.

"Don't you despise me, Rilla-my-Rilla?" asked Walter wistfully.
Somehow, it hurt him to think Rilla might despise him--hurt him as much
as if it had been Di. He realized suddenly how very fond he was of this
adoring kid sister with her appealing eyes and troubled, girlish face.

"No, I don't. Why, Walter, hundreds of people feel just as you do. You
know what that verse of Shakespeare in the old Fifth Reader says--'the
brave man is not he who feels no fear.'"

"No--but it is 'he whose noble soul its fear subdues.' I don't do that.
We can't gloss it over, Rilla. I'm a coward."

"You're not. Think of how you fought Dan Reese long ago."

"One spurt of courage isn't enough for a lifetime."

"Walter, one time I heard father say that the trouble with you was a
sensitive nature and a vivid imagination. You feel things before they
really come--feel them all alone when there isn't anything to help you
bear them--to take away from them. It isn't anything to be ashamed of.
When you and Jem got your hands burned when the grass was fired on the
sand-hills two years ago Jem made twice the fuss over the pain that you
did. As for this horrid old war, there'll be plenty to go without you.
It won't last long."

"I wish I could believe it. Well, it's supper-time, Rilla. You'd better
run. I don't want anything."

"Neither do I. I couldn't eat a mouthful. Let me stay here with you,
Walter. It's such a comfort to talk things over with someone. The rest
all think that I'm too much of a baby to understand."

So they two sat there in the old valley until the evening star shone
through a pale-grey, gauzy cloud over the maple grove, and a fragrant
dewy darkness filled their little sylvan dell. It was one of the
evenings Rilla was to treasure in remembrance all her life--the first
one on which Walter had ever talked to her as if she were a woman and
not a child. They comforted and strengthened each other. Walter felt,
for the time being at least, that it was not such a despicable thing
after all to dread the horror of war; and Rilla was glad to be made the
confidante of his struggles--to sympathize with and encourage him. She
was of importance to somebody.

When they went back to Ingleside they found callers sitting on the
veranda. Mr. and Mrs.