Was
it cowardly? What would Jem think if he knew? After two days of worry
Rilla phoned to the president of the Patriotic Society that she would
recite. She did, and lisped several times, and lay awake most of the
night in an agony of wounded vanity. Then two nights after she recited
again at Harbour Head. She had been at Lowbridge and over-harbour since
then and had become resigned to an occasional lisp. Nobody except
herself seemed to mind it. And she was so earnest and appealing and
shining-eyed! More than one recruit joined up because Rilla's eyes
seemed to look right at him when she passionately demanded how could men
die better than fighting for the ashes of their fathers and the temples
of their gods, or assured her audience with thrilling intensity that one
crowded hour of glorious life was worth an age without a name. Even
stolid Miller Douglas was so fired one night that it took Mary Vance a
good hour to talk him back to sense. Mary Vance said bitterly that if
Rilla Blythe felt as bad as she had pretended to feel over Jem's going
to the front she wouldn't be urging other girls' brothers and friends to
go.
On this particular night Rilla was tired and cold and very thankful to
creep into her warm nest and cuddle down between her blankets, though as
usual with a sorrowful wonder how Jem and Jerry were faring. She was
just getting warm and drowsy when Jims suddenly began to cry--and kept
on crying.
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