There's Ken, Rilla."
Rilla knew Kenneth was there. She had been acutely conscious of it from
the moment he had sprung from Leo West's buggy. Now he came up to her
smiling.
"Doing the brave-smiling-sister-stunt, I see. What a crowd for the Glen
to muster! Well, I'm off home in a few days myself."
A queer little wind of desolation that even Jem's going had not caused
blew over Rilla's spirit.
"Why? You have another month of vacation."
"Yes--but I can't hang around Four Winds and enjoy myself when the
world's on fire like this. It's me for little old Toronto where I'll
find some way of helping in spite of this bally ankle. I'm not looking
at Jem and Jerry--makes me too sick with envy. You girls are great--no
crying, no grim endurance. The boys'll go off with a good taste in their
mouths. I hope Persis and mother will be as game when my turn comes."
"Oh, Kenneth--the war will be over before your turn cometh."
There! She had lisped again. Another great moment of life spoiled! Well,
it was her fate. And anyhow, nothing mattered. Kenneth was off already--
he was talking to Ethel Reese, who was dressed, at seven in the morning,
in the gown she had worn to the dance, and was crying. What on earth had
Ethel to cry about? None of the Reeses were in khaki. Rilla wanted to
cry, too--but she would not. What was that horrid old Mrs. Drew saying
to mother, in that melancholy whine of hers? "I don't know how you can
stand this, Mrs.
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