She had been at Lowbridge and over-harbour since then and had become resigned to an occasional lisp.
Nobody except herself seemed to mind it.

And she was so earnest and appealing and shining-eyed! More than one recruit joined up because Rilla's eyes seemed to look right at him when she passionately demanded how could men die better than fighting for the ashes of their fathers and the temples of their gods, or assured her audience with thrilling intensity that one crowded hour of glorious life was worth an age without a name.

Even stolid Miller Douglas was so fired one night that it took Mary Vance a good hour to talk him back to sense.

Mary Vance said bitterly that if Rilla Blythe felt as bad as she had pretended to feel over Jem's going to the front she wouldn't be urging other girls' brothers and friends to go.
On this particular night Rilla was tired and cold and very thankful to creep into her warm nest and cuddle down between her blankets, though as usual with a sorrowful wonder how Jem and Jerry were faring.

She was just getting warm and drowsy when Jims suddenly began to cry--and kept on crying.
Rilla curled herself up in her bed and determined she would let him cry.