They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. "I can't say I did," replied Wood, somewhat reluctantly; "what with the confusion incident to the storm, and the subsequent press of business, I put it off till it was too late. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. That there Frenchie didn’t look any too friendly to me. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse. Instead of which, more than half an hour has elapsed. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought.
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