“So I don’t want you to wonder about it, children. Daddy may seem very queer to you, because he’s so still, but that’s-just simply the way he’s got to look.”
Suddenly she pressed her lips tightly together and they trembled violently. She clenched her cheekbone against her left shoulder, squeezing their hands with her trembling hands, and tears slipped from her tightly shut eyes. Rufus watched her with awe, Catherine with forlorn worry. She suddenly hissed out, “Just-a-minute,” with her eyes still closed, startling and shocking Catherine, so that she looked as if she were ready to cry. But before Catherine could commit herself to crying, her hands relaxed, pressing them gently, and she raised her head and opened her clear eyes, saying, "Now Mother must get dressed, and I want you to take Catherine downstairs, Rufus, and both of you be very quiet and good till I come down. And don’t make any bother for Aunt Hannah, because she’s been wonderful to all of us and she’s worn out.
“You be good,” she said, smiling and looking at them in turn. “I’ll be down in a little while.”
“Come on, Catherine,” Rufus said.
“I’m coming,” Catherine replied, looking at him as if he had spoken of her unjustly.
“Mama”; Rufus stopped near the door. Catherine hesitated, bewildered.
“Yes, Rufus?”
“Are we orphans, now?”
“Orphans?”
“Like the Belgians,” he informed her. “French. When you haven’t got any daddy or mamma because they’re killed in the war you’re an orphan and other children send you things and write you letters.”
She must have been unfamiliar with the word, for she seemed to have to think very hard before she answered. Then she said, “Of course you’re not orphans, Rufus, and I don’t
