They
laugh and talk about 'potting Huns'! But it maddens me to see them in
the khaki. And they think I'm grumpy because I'm not fit to go."
Walter laughed bitterly. "It is not a nice thing to feel yourself a
coward." But Rilla got her arms about him and cuddled her head on his
shoulder. She was so glad he didn't want to 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.
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