wounded in the hospitals. But so far nothing had touched the manse and the Ingleside boys. They seemed to bear charmed lives. Yet the suspense never grew any easier to bear as the weeks and months of war went by.
“It isn’t as if it were some sort of fever to which you might conclude they were immune when they hadn't taken it for two years,” sighed Rilla. “The danger is just as great and just as real as it was the first day they went into the trenches. I know this, and it tortures me every day. And yet I can’t help hoping that since they’ve come this far unhurt they'll come through. Oh, Miss Oliver, what would it be like not to wake up in the morning feeling afraid of the news the day would bring? I can’t picture such a state of things somehow. And two years ago this morning I woke wondering what delightful gift the new day would give me. These are the two years I thought would be filled with fun.”
“Would you exchange them—now—for two years filled with fun?”
“No,” said Rilla slowly, “I wouldn’t. It’s strange—isn’t it?—They have been two terrible years—and yet I have a queer feeling of thankfulness for them—as if they had brought me something very precious, with all their pain. I wouldn’t want to go back and be the girl I was two years ago, not even if I could. Not that I think I’ve made any wonderful progress—but I’m not quite the selfish, frivolous little doll I was then. I suppose I had a soul then, Miss Oliver—but I didn’t know it. I know it now—and that is worth a great deal—worth all the suffering of the past two years. And still”—Rilla gave a little apologetic
