Horace thought by her manner they must all have been sadly frightened about him. "I got lost in the woods, grandma; but it didn't hurt me any, only Pincher got his foot caught." "Lost in the woods?" repeated she: "Grace thought you went home to dinner with Willy Snow." So it seemed they had not worried about him at all: then what was grandma crying about? "Don't go up stairs, dear," said she, as he brushed past her and laid his hand on the latch of the chamber door. "But I want to see ma." "Wait a little," said Mrs. Parlin, with a fresh burst of tears. "Why, what is the matter, grandma; and where's Grace, and Susy, and Prudy?" "Grace is with your mother, and the other children are at aunt Martha's. But if you've been in the woods all day, Horace, you must be very hungry." "You've forgot Pincher, grandma." The boy would not taste food till the dog's foot had been bandaged, though, all the while his grandmother was doing up the Wound, it seemed to Horace that she must be thinking of something else, or she would pity Pincher a great deal more. The cold dinner which she set out on the table was very tempting, and he ate heartily; but after every mouthful he kept asking, "What could be the matter? Was baby worse? Had anybody took sick?" But his grandmother stood by the stove stirring gruel, and would answer him nothing but, "I'll let you know very soon." She wanted the little boy to be rested and refreshed by food before she told him a very painful thing. Then she took him up stairs with her into her own chamber, which was quite shady with grape-vines, and so still that you could only hear the buzzing of two or three flies. She had brought a bowl of hot gruel on a little waiter. She placed the waiter on the top of her washing-stand, and seated herself on the bed, drawing Horace down beside her. "My dear little grandson," said she, stroking his bright hair, "God has been very good to you always, always. He loves you better than you can even think." "Yes, grandma," answered Horace, bewildered. "He is your dear Father in heaven," she added, slowly. "He wants you to love him with all your heart, for now--you have no other father!" Horace sprang up from the bed, his eyes wild with fear and surprise, yet having no idea what she meant. "Why, my father's captain in the army! He's down South!" "But have you never thought, dear, that he might be shot?" "No, I never," cried Horace, running to the window and back again in great excitement. "Mr. Evans said they'd put him in colonel. He was coming home in six months. He couldn't be shot!" "My dear little boy!" "But O, grandma, is he killed? Say quick!" His grandmother took out of her pocket a Boston Journal, and having put on her spectacles, pointed with a trembling finger to the list of "killed." One of the first names was "Captain Henry S. Clifford." "O, Horace!" said Grace, opening the door softly, "I just thought I heard you. Ma wants you to come to her."