When they had laughed at Beth’s story, they asked their mother for one; and, after a moment’s thought, she said soberly—
“As I sat cutting out blue flannel jackets today, at the rooms, I felt very anxious about father, and thought how lonely and helpless we should be, if anything happened to him. It was not a wise thing to do; but I kept on worrying, till an old man came in, with an order for some clothes. He sat down near me, and I began to talk to him; for he looked poor and tired and anxious.
“ ‘Have you sons in the army?’ I asked; for the note he brought was not to me.
“ ‘Yes, ma’am. I had four, but two were killed, one is a prisoner, and I’m going to the other, who is very sick in a Washington hospital,’ he answered quietly.
“ ‘You have done a great deal for your country, sir,’ I said, feeling respect now, instead of pity.
“ ‘Not a mite more than I ought, ma’am. I’d go myself, if I was any use; as I ain’t, I give my boys, and give ’em free.’
“He spoke so cheerfully, looked so sincere, and seemed so glad to give his all, that I was ashamed of myself. I’d given one man, and thought it too much, while he gave four, without grudging them. I had all my girls to comfort me at home; and his last son was waiting, miles away, to say ‘goodbye’ to him, perhaps! I felt so rich, so happy, thinking of my blessings, that I made him a nice bundle, gave him some money, and thanked him heartily for the lesson he had taught me.”
“Tell another story, mother—one with a moral to it, like this. I like to think about them afterwards, if they are real, and not too preachy,” said Jo, after a minute’s silence.