"
The holidays were an unhappy time for her. Still, having Nan and Di and
Walter and Shirley home helped in the enduring of things. A letter and
book came for her from Kenneth Ford, too; some sentences in the letter
made her cheeks burn and her heart beat--until the last paragraph,
which sent an icy chill over everything.
"My ankle is about as good as new. I'll be fit to join up in a couple of
months more, Rilla-my-Rilla. It will be some feeling to get into khaki
all right. Little Ken will be able to look the whole world in the face
then and owe not any man. It's been rotten lately, since I've been able
to walk without limping. People who don't know look at me as much as to
say 'Slacker!' Well, they won't have the chance to look it much longer."
"I hate this war," said Rilla bitterly, as she gazed out into the maple
grove that was a chill glory of pink and gold in the winter sunset.
"Nineteen-fourteen has gone," said Dr. Blythe on New Year's Day. "Its
sun, which rose fairly, has set in blood. What will nineteen-fifteen
bring?"
"Victory!" said Susan, for once laconic.
"Do you really believe we'll win the war, Susan?" said Miss Oliver
drearily. She had come over from Lowbridge to spend the day and see
Walter and the girls before they went back to Redmond. She was in a
rather blue and cynical mood and inclined to look on the dark side.
"'Believe' we'll win the war!" exclaimed Susan.
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