Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. Our ideal had fallen. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. He heard me; but he never came in to ask what was the matter. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. .
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