"An' from that day to this, I've never heard a word from my little boy."

"Oh," cried Betty, pityingly, "what a terrible thing! I should think he
could have written. But maybe he did, and his letters never reached you."

"That old Abner must have been a beast," cried Mollie, clenching her hands
belligerently. "And those boys! Wouldn't I like to put them behind the
bars?"

"You see," the old lady went on tonelessly, "it was only a little while
after Willie ran away that they found out that tramps started the fire. Of
course Abner was sorry then, but it was too late. My boy was gone."

"But you'll find him yet," cried Betty hopefully, springing to her feet.
"I'm quite sure you will."

But the old lady shook her head sadly.

"I don't think so, my dear," she said slowly. "If my Willie boy had been
alive I'm sure he would have come to me. He's--he's--almost certain--to
be--dead."

The girls tried to comfort the little old woman for a few minutes more,
then had to hurry away to various duties about the Hostess House--Mollie
to help a young Polish boy who had been drafted into the army and who was
struggling valiantly and conscientiously to learn English, Grace to write
a letter for a Southern mountain boy who had never learned to read and
write, and Amy and Betty to help a timid and somewhat helpless mother
through the long hours of waiting before she could have a brief visit with
her son during his time of relief from duty.