She
remembered tumbling into her things, running two blocks, and then
gasping--"Where is it?" and Georgia replied, gasping too--"Don't
know--small boys--said so." And then after running all over town they
found there was no fire at all, and that had so overcome them with
laughter that she forgot all about those other things which would have
given her so miserable an evening. She had had just a little suspicion
then, and now she had a firm conviction, that Georgia never heard small
boys say anything about fire that night. Bless Georgia's big heart--she
loved her for just such things as inventing fires for unhappy people to
go to.
As she lay there resting, away from the current of her life, she thought
a great deal about a little grave over in France, such a very, very small
grave which represented a life which had really never come into the world
at all. She could fancy her baby here with her now--patting her face,
pulling her hair--so warm and dear and sweet. Her arms ached for that
little child which had been hers only in anticipation.
Pages:
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403