ould meet around--and there must be no
eats--Rilla knew she would have a pitched battle with Olive Kirk over
that--and everything should be strictly business-like and
constitutional. Her minute book should be covered in white with a Red
Cross on the cover--and wouldn't it be nice to have some kind of
uniform which they could all wear at the concerts they would have to
get up to raise money--something simple but smart?

"You have basted the top hem of that sheet on one side and the bottom
hem on the other," said Di.

Rilla picked out her stitches and reflected that she hated sewing.
Running the Junior Reds would be much more interesting.

Mrs. Blythe was saying upstairs, "Susan, do you remember that first day
Jem lifted up his little arms to me and called me 'mo'er'--the very
first word he ever tried to say?"

"You could not mention anything about that blessed baby that I do not
and will not remember till my dying day," said Susan drearily.

"Susan, I keep thinking today of once when he cried for me in the
night. He was just a few months old. Gilbert didn't want me to go to
him--he said the child was well and warm and that it would be fostering
bad habits in him. But I went--and took him up--I can feel that tight
clinging of his little arms round my neck yet. Susan, if I hadn't gone
that night, twenty-one years ago, and taken my baby up when he cried
for me I couldn't face tomorrow morning."

"I do not know how we are going to face it anyhow, Mrs. Dr. dear. But
do not tell me that it will be the final farewell. He will be back on
leave before he goes overseas, will he not?"

"We hope so but we are not very sure. I am making up my mind that he
will not, so that there will be no disappointment to bear. Susan, I am
determined that I will send my boy off tomorrow with a smile. He shall
not carry away with him the remembrance of a weak mother who had not
the courage to send when he had the courage to go. I hope none of us
will cry."

"I am not going to cry, Mrs. Dr. dear, and that you may tie to, but
whether I shall manage to smile or not will be as Providence ordains
and as the pit of my stomach feels. Have you room there for this
fruit-cake? And the shortbread? And the mince-pie? That blessed boy
shall not starve, whether they have anything to eat in that Quebec
place or not. Everything seems to be changing all at once, does it not?
Even the old cat at the manse has passed away. He breathed his last at
a quarter t