Page 95 - Among the camps, or, Young people's stories of the war

and stooping, began to pick up the fragments, weeping in a
low, pitiful way. In a second Adams sprang forward, and
struck the fellow a blow between the eyes which sent him

staggering off the sidewalk, down in the road, flat on his
back. He rose with an oath, but Adams struck him a
second blow which laid him out again, and the fellow, find­
ing him to be an officer, was glad to slink off. Adams then
turned to the child* whose tears, which had dried for a
moment in her alarm at the fight, now began to flow again

over her doll.
■‘ Her pretty head's all broke! Oh— oh— o h ! " she
sobbed, trying vainly to get the pieces to fit into something
like a face.

The young officer sat down on the ground by her.
“ Never mind, sissy," he said, soothingly, “ let me see if I can
help you."
She confidingly handed him the fragments, whilst she
tried to stifle her sobs, and wiped her eyes with her little
pinafore.

“ Can you do i t ? ” she asked, dolefully, behind her pina­
fore.
“ I hope so. What's your name ? ”
11 Nancy Pansy, and my dolly’s named Harry.”
“ Harry ! " Tom looked at the doll’s dress and the frag-

ments of face, which certainly were not masculine.
“ Yes, H arry Hunter. H e’s my sweetheart,’1 she looked
at him to see that he understood her.