e it from the others and "carry on"
cheerfully. Rilla laughed a good deal. Nobody at Ingleside was deceived
by her laughter; it came from her lips only, never from her heart. But
outsiders said some people got over trouble very easily, and Irene
Howard remarked that she was surprised to find how shallow Rilla Blythe
really was. "Why, after all her pose of being so devoted to Walter, she
doesn't seem to mind his death at all. Nobody has ever seen her shed a
tear or heard her mention his name. She has evidently quite forgotten
him. Poor fellow--you'd really think his family would feel it more. I
spoke of him to Rilla at the last Junior Red meeting--of how fine and
brave and splendid he was--and I said life could never be just the same
to me again, now that Walter had gone--we were such friends, you
know--why I was the very first person he told about having
enlisted--and Rilla answered, as coolly and indifferently as if she
were speaking of an entire stranger, 'He was just one of many fine and
splendid boys who have given everything for their country.' Well, I
wish I could take things as calmly--but I'm not made like that. I'm so
sensitive--things hurt me terribly--I really never get over them. I
asked Rilla right out why she didn't put on mourning for Walter. She
said her mother didn't wish it. But every one is talking about it."

"Rilla doesn't wear colours--nothing but white," protested Betty Mead.

"White becomes her better than anything else," said Irene
significantly. "And we all know black doesn't suit her complexion at
all. But of course I'm not saying that is the reason she doesn't wear
it. Only, it's funny. If my brother had died I'd have gone into deep
mourning. I wouldn't have had the heart for anything else. I confess
I'm disappointed in Rilla Blythe."

"I am not, then," cried Betty Meade, loyally, "I think Rilla is just a
wonderful girl. A few years ago I admit I did think she was rather too
vain and gigglesome; but now she is nothing of the sort. I don't think
there is a girl in the Glen who is so unselfish and plucky as Rilla, or
who has done her bit as thoroughly and patiently. Our Junior Red Cross
would have gone on the rocks a dozen times if it hadn't been for her
tact and perseverance and enthusiasm--you know that perfectly well,
Irene."

"Why, I am not running Rilla down," said Irene, opening her eyes
widely. "It was only her lack of feeling I was criticizing. I suppose
she can't help it. Of course