I must tell her at once."
"Why not get Dr. McGregor?"
"No--no," she returned with decision. "I shall know best how to
tell--it wants a woman."
The ruddy, stout post-mistress looked at the tall young woman with sudden
appreciation of her self-command and mental growth. "Maybe you're about
right, but I thought--well, fact is, I've seen of late so many people
just tear open a letter--and go all to pieces."
Leila smiled. "You don't know my aunt. Now I must go. Oh, this war--this
war! To-morrow will scatter joy and grief over all the land."
"Yes, I've been near about mobbed to-day. Good-bye."
The messenger of evil news went straight from the garden path, where the
roses were in unusual abundance. To her surprise she saw her aunt on the
back porch. As Leila hesitated, she said, "I saw Mrs. Crocker from my
window, Leila. She gave you something--a letter--or a telegram. What is
it? I suppose after what I have heard of the Confederates at York and
Carlisle, they may be in Harrisburg by this time and the railroad to the
west cut off. It may be well to know." She spoke rapidly as she came down
the steps to meet her niece. "It is as well James Penhallow is not in
it."
The two women stood facing one another in one of those immeasurably brief
silences which are to timeless thought as are ages.
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