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The Littlest Rebel by Edward Henry Peple
page 56 of 195 (28%)
"Lord, make us thankful for the blackberries an' the aco'n coffee
an'--an' all our blessin's; but please, sir, sen' us somethin' that
tastes jus' a little better--if you don't mind. Amen!"

And the man, who leaned against the door and watched, had also bowed his
head. A pain was in his throat--and in his heart--a pain that gripped
him, till two great tears rolled down his war-worn cheek and were lost
in his straggling beard.

"Virgie!" he whispered hoarsely. "Virgie!"

She started at the sound and looked about her, wondering; then, as the
name was called again, she slid from her chair and ran forward with a
joyous cry:

"Why, Daddy! Is it you? Is--"

She stopped, for the man had placed a finger on his lip and was pointing
to the door.

"Take a look down the road," he ordered, in a guarded voice; and, when
she had reached a point commanding the danger zone, he asked, "See
anybody?--soldiers?" She shook her head. "Hear anything?"

She stood for a moment listening, then ran to him, and sprang into his
waiting arms.

"It's all right, Daddy! It's all right now!"

He raised her, strained her to his breast, his cheek against her own.
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