Franklin looked at Amos with a smile on her face, but without
speaking.
"Then I have written," continued the little cripple, "three other
letters to boys and girls in the hospital, directing them to what I
think they're most likely to be laid up with. And I mean to watch the
papers hereafter for the 'casualty cases,' so that I can get their
names. That will be so much nicer, won't it?"
Mrs. Franklin came over and stroked his hair affectionately.
"Is this your own idea?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered, brightly. "I got to thinking how lonesome the
children must be, even if the nurses are kind; and you know folks can't
always visit them. Then I knew no one would think of writing letters,
and it would be such a treat for them to know that a strange boy was
talking to them."
"My dear son," murmured his mother, fondly.
"Of course," he went on, "I'm not going to tell them that I'm an
invalid, because that would make them feel badly. And, then, I'm not in
the hospital; I'm home, and that makes all the difference in the
world."
"It is an excellent idea," said Mrs.
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