be sane again if anything--anything had happened--

The crowd parted as she ran forward. And she saw, with a lightning
look that burned the picture on her brain for all her life, the
boys blessed little figures--and Anne leaning on her father's
knee, as he sat on an overturned bookcase--and against Bert's
shoulder the little fat, soft brown hand, and the sunny crown of
hair that were Priscilla's--




Chapter Thirty-three


Blinded with an exquisite rush of tears, somehow Nancy reached
them, and fell on her knees at her husband's side, and caught her
baby to her heart. Three hundred persons heard the sobbing cry she
gave, and the flames flung off stars and arrows for more than one
pair of sympathetic eyes. But she neither knew nor cared. She knew
only that Bert's arms and the boys' arms were about her, and that
Anne's thin little cheek was against her hair, and that her hungry
lips were devouring the baby's sweet, bewildered face. She was
crying as if there could be no end to her tears, crying happily
and trying to laugh as she cried, and as she let the waves of
relief and joy sweep over her in a reviving flood.

Bert was in his shirt sleeves, and Priscilla still had on only the
short embroidered petticoat that she wore while she slept; her
small feet were bare. The boys were grimed with ashes and soot,