"
"You are right, mother," exclaimed Prohaska. "Let us take a wounded
soldier into our house, and I will nurse him as a brother, teaching
him how to use his wooden leg, while you are at the hospital,
attending to the other sufferers. But you have not thought of the
children. What are Leonora and Charles to do while we are thus
engaged?"
"They can help us," said his wife, quickly. "Leonora will have a
great deal to do. She will prepare lint, make nourishing soups, wash
bandages, and sew shirts and clothing."
The invalid cast a quick glance on Leonora. She stood, drawn up to
her full height, in the middle of the room; a proud, contemptuous
smile was playing about her lips, which uttered no word in reply to
her mother's plans.
"But what will Charles do?" asked Prohaska, quickly. "He cannot be
as useful as his sister."
"Father!" ejaculated Leonora, somewhat reproachfully.
"Hush!" he said, almost sternly, "mother is right; it behooves you
women to prepare lint, cook soups, nurse the wounded, and sew shirts
for them. But war itself is the task of the men. But, my wife,
before telling me what Charles is to do for our wounded, I must ask
a very sad question. Where shall we find money for the expenses we
shall have to incur? We are unfortunately poor, dependent on the
labor of our hands. This small house and my pension of three dollars
a month constitute our whole fortune, and if you were not the most
skilful hair-dresser in Potsdam--if I could not besides earn a few
dollars by making baskets, and if Leonora were not the best
seamstress in town, I should like to know how we could live and send
Charles to the Lyceum.
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