So he put on an extra burst of speed and managed
to lay hold of the long blue skirt of the army overcoat.
"Please, sir, don't go quite so fast," he panted.
The stranger slackened his pace, and in a constrained tone of
voice, asked:
"How far are you going, little man?"
"Only to our house--mamma's. She's Mrs. Marlow, you know."
"Yes, I know--that is, I reckon I do. How much further is it?"
"Oh, not much; we're most half-way now. I say, you're a soldier,
aren't you?"
"Yes, my boy," said Marlow, with a lump in his throat. "Why?"
"Well, you see, my papa is a soldier, too, and I thought you might
know him. We haven't heard from him for a good while, and--"
choking a bit--"mamma's afraid he is hurt, or taken prisoner or
something." He could not bring himself to say "killed."
Jamie let go the overcoat to draw his sleeve across his eyes, and
the big man once more strode on faster than ever, and Jamie began
to fear lest the dusky form might disappear in the snow and
darkness with both basket and coal; but the apparent stranger so
far forgot his part that he put down the basket at Mrs.
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