Joe was all she had. She was growing old, and her little
store of money was dwindling surely if slowly.
By the time Joe came home that night and told her of what the colonel
had said, Mrs. Little had steeled herself to give her boy to her
country and humanity. It cost her dear, but she set her teeth and
placed her offering on the altar of what she had come to believe
her duty, with a brave, patient smile in her eyes, in spite of the
clutch at her heartstrings.
"Splendid, Joe," she said with what enthusiasm she could put into
her words. "You are glad, aren't you, dear?"
"Not glad, mother darling." Joe placed his arm around her slender
waist tenderly. They were very close, these two. "Not glad. That
does not express it. I couldn't be glad to go away and leave you.
Though, for that matter, you will be all right. I feel sort of an
inspiration I can't explain. It is all so big. It seems so
necessary that I should go, and I felt that I should be so utterly
out of it if I did not go one day.
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