'Well?' Mrs Simpkins said, and I think she said it what people in
books call 'sourly'.

Oswald said, 'We are very, very sorry we spoiled your turnips, and
we will ask my father to try and make it up to you some other way.'

She muttered something about not wanting to be beholden to anybody.

'We came back,' Oswald went on, with his always unruffled
politeness, 'because the postman gave us a postcard in mistake with
our letters, and it is addressed to you.'

'We haven't read it,' Alice said quickly. I think she needn't have
said that. Of course we hadn't. But perhaps girls know better
than we do what women are likely to think you capable of.

The soldier's mother took the postcard (she snatched it really, but
'took' is a kinder word, considering everything) and she looked at
the address a long time. Then she turned it over and read what was
on the back. Then she drew her breath in as far as it would go,
and caught hold of the door-post. Her face got awful. It was like
the wax face of a dead king I saw once at Madame Tussaud's.

Alice understood. She caught hold of the soldier's mother's hand
and said--

'Oh, NO--it's NOT your boy Bill!'

And the woman said nothing, but shoved the postcard into Alice's
hand, and we both read it--and it WAS her boy Bill.