anyway, for she was all brains, and I never could bear to make soup
out of a philosopher like what she was. Well, she was getting pretty
stiff--I could see that; and sometimes she had to try two or three
times before she could get on the roost. But this night she made it on
the first try, and when I went to shut the door, she sat there all
ruffled up. I reached out to feel her, she looked so humped-up, and
the minute I touched her, she fell off the roost; and when I picked
her up, she was dead! You see, she got herself balanced so she would
stay on the roost, and then died--bluffed it out to the last, and died
standing up! That's what we should all try to do!" she concluded; "go
down with a smile--I say--hustling and cheerful to the last!"

I commended her philosophy, but the other woman sat silent, and her
knitting lay idle on her knee.

After all, the biggest thing in life is the mental attitude!


This was the third time a boy on a wheel
Had come to her gate
With the small yellow slip, with its few curt words,
To tell her the fate
Of the boys she had given to fight
For the right to be free!
I thought I must go as a neighbor and friend
And stand by her side;
At least I could tell her how sorry I was
That a brave man had died.

She sat in a chair when I entered the room,