Presently the farmer's wife looked up-- 'It's devil's work, is war!' she said, her eyes blazing.

Nelly held out her hand and Mrs.Grayson put hers into it.

The two women looked at each other,--the one who had lost, and the other who feared to lose.
'Yes, it's awful,' said Nelly, in a low voice.

'They want us to be brave--but--' Mrs.Grayson shook her head again.
'We can do it when they're settin' there--afore us,' she said, 'but not when we're by our lone.' Nelly nodded.
'It's the nights that are worst--' she murmured, under her breath--'because it's then they're fighting--when we're in bed--sleeping.' 'My boy was killed between one and two in the morning '-- whispered Mrs.
Grayson.

'I heard from one of his friends this morning.