One day after her father had left them she called her mother to her,
and, taking her hand to draw her to a seat on the couch, asked:
"Mother, do angels ever come by day, or be it always by night?"
"I'm--I'm--not knowin', dear. They comes both times, I'm thinkin'--but
mostly by night--I'm--not knowin'," faltered the mother.
"Does un think Bob's angel ha' been comin' by night while we sleeps,
mother? I been watchin', an' he've never come while I wakes--an' I'm
wonderin' an' wonderin'."
"No--not while we sleeps--no--I'm not knowin'," and then she buried
her face in Emily's pillow and wept.
"Bob's knowin', mother, how we longs t' see he," continued Emily, as
she stroked her mother's hair, "an' he'd sure be comin' if he were
killed. He'd sure be doin' that so we could see un. But he's not been
comin', an' I'm thinkin' he's livin', just as you were sayin'. Bob'll
be home wi' th' break-up, mother, I'm thinkin'--wi' th' break-up,
mother, for his angel ha' never come, as un sure would if he were
dead."
On two or three other occasions after this--once in the night--Emily
called Mrs. Gray to her to reiterate this belief. She would not accept
even the possibility of Bob's death without first seeing his angel,
which she was so positive would come to visit them if he were really
dead; and it was this that kept back the grief that she would have
felt had she believed that she was never to see him again.
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