disturb you,” said Bess, as Mrs. Allen swept to the sofa and bent over her son.
“I am quite jealous of Fred, for you have hardly been here all the time he was away,” she said. “But he needs you now badly enough, poor boy!” putting a delicately embroidered handkerchief to her eyes. “Isn’t it hard to see him in this condition?”
Again the burning flush rolled up to Fred’s hair, and the hand that was tightly clasping Bessie’s grew suddenly cold. Bess gently kissed him before she answered,—
“You ought to know of my sympathy for Fred, Mrs. Allen. No words can express it. But I am glad to have him here again. We were having such a good talk, just like old times.”
With an air of relief, Mrs. Allen took the hint, and left them alone again. When she was gone, the boy settled back on his pillow, saying gratefully,—
“It is awfully nice to have you here. Tell some more about the fellows.”
So Bess talked on, racking her brains for any bright, funny bit of gossip that could rouse the
