"
A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. "Amen," he said,
solemnly, "amen."
"To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all coming
home from the pasture, and precious little Blossom standing on
the back stoop, waiting for me! But I shall never, never come!
God bless you all! Forgive your poor Bennie!"
Late that night the door of the "back stoop" opened softly and a
little figure glided out and down the footpath that led to the
road by the mill. She seemed rather flying than walking, turning
her head neither to the right nor left, looking only now and then
to heaven, and folding her hands is if in prayer. Two hours
later the same young girl stood at the mill depot, watching the
coming of the night train; and the conductor, as he reached down
to lift her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained face that
was upturned toward the dim lantern he held in his hand. A few
questions and ready answers told him all; and no father could
have cared more tenderly for his only child than he for our
little Blossom. She was on her way to Washington to ask
President Lincoln for her brother's life. She had stolen away,
leaving only a note to tell them where and why she had gone.
She had brought Bennie's letter with her; no good, kind heart
like the President's could refuse to be melted by it. The next
morning they reached New York, and the conductor hurried her on
to Washington. Every minute, now, might be the means of saving
her brother's life.
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