before you know it, with a lot of good stories to tell you.
Perhaps we will bring you some loot. Wouldn't you like something
to remember the War by?"

"Just you look out for yourselves," said Mrs. Potter. "I'd like
a couple of boys sent home safe and sound. That's what I'd like
to remember things by." She stabbed the needles through her
knitting and, rising, left the room. The boys looked after her.
Beany made a move to follow, but his brother pushed him back.

"Let her alone," he said. "She likes to be brave."

That evening passed like lightning, although all the traps had
been ready for days. Gladdis, the cook, had baked them a
wonderful fruit cake, and Mr. Leffingwell came home with four new
comfort kits and a portable typewriter for each one--a little
typewriter that would go in one end of a suit-case.

Everybody seemed more than happy, quite noisy, in fact. There
was not a moment when anybody felt the least bit--the least bit--
well, you know! That is, not a moment except just at bedtime.
Then Mrs. Potter came into the boys' room, and gave them each a
little, thin package. She just handed it to them and kissed them
goodnight, and went out.

"Let's see what they are," said Porky. There were two little
leather cases. Inside were Mom Potter's pretty, motherly dear
face, and pop's splendid, homely countenance. Porky jerked out
the light.