My Red Cap
"He who serves well need not fear to ask his wages."
IIt was under a blue cap that I first saw the honest face of JoeCollins. In the third year of the late war a Maine regiment waspassing through Boston, on its way to Washington. The Common was allalive with troops and the spectators who clustered round them to sayGod-speed, as the brave fellows marched away to meet danger and deathfor our sakes.Every one was eager to do something; and, as the men stood at ease,the people mingled freely with them, offering gifts, hearty grips ofthe hand, and hopeful prophecies of victory in the end. Irresistiblyattracted, my boy Tom and I drew near, and soon, becoming excited bythe scene, ravaged the fruit-stands in our neighborhood for tokens ofour regard, mingling candy and congratulations, peanuts and prayers,apples and applause, in one enthusiastic jumble.While Tom was off on his third raid, my attention was attracted bya man who stood a little apart, looking as if his thoughts were faraway. All the men were fine, stalwart fellows, as Maine men usuallyare; but this one over-topped his comrades, standing straight andtall as a Norway pine, with a face full of the mingled shrewdness,sobriety, and self-possession of the typical New Englander. I likedthe look of him; and, seeing that he seemed solitary, even in a crowd,I offered him my last apple with a word of interest. The keen blueeyes met mine gratefully, and the apple began to vanish in vigorousbites as we talked; for no one thought of ceremony at such a time."Where are you from?""Woolidge, ma'am.""Are you glad to go?""Wal, there's two sides to that question. I calk'late to do my duty,and do it hearty: but it is rough on a feller leavin' his folks, forgood, maybe."There was a sudden huskiness in the man's voice that was notapple-skins, though he tried to make believe that it was. I knew aword about home would comfort him, so I went on with my questions."It is very hard. Do you leave a family?""My old mother, a sick brother,--and Lucindy."The last word was uttered in a tone of intense regret, and his browncheek reddened as he added hastily, to hide some embarrassment.--"You see, Jim went last year, and got pretty well used up; so I feltas if I'd ought to take my turn now. Mother was a regular old heroabout it and I dropped everything, and come off. Lucindy didn't thinkit was my duty; and that made it awful hard, I tell you.""Wives are less patriotic than mothers," I began; but he would nothear Lucindy blamed, and said quickly,--"She ain't my wife yet, but we calk'lated to be married in a monthor so; and it was wus for her than for me, women lot so on not beingdisappointed. I couldn't shirk, and here I be. When I git to work, Ishall be all right: the first wrench is the tryin' part."Here he straightened his broad shoulders, and turned his face towardthe flags fluttering far in front, as if no backward look shouldbetray the longing of his heart for mother, home, and wife. I likedthat little glimpse of character; and when Tom returned with emptyhands, reporting that every stall was exhausted, I told him to findout what the man would like best, then run across the street and getit."I know without asking. Give us your purse, and I'll make him as happyas a king," said the boy, laughing, as he looked up admiringly atour tall friend, who looked down on him with an elder-brotherly airpleasant to see. While Tom was gone, I found out Joe's name andbusiness, promised to write and tell his mother how finely theregiment went off, and was just expressing a hope that we might meetagain, for I too was going to the war as nurse, when the order to"Fall in!" came rolling down the ranks, and the talk was over. FearingTom would miss our man in the confusion, I kept my eye on him till theboy came rushing up with a packet of tobacco in one hand and a goodsupply of cigars in the other. Not a romantic offering, certainly, buta very acceptable one, as Joe's face proved, as we scrambled thesetreasures into his pockets, all laughing at the flurry, while lessfortunate comrades helped us, with an eye to a share of these fragrantluxuries by and by. There was just time for this, a hearty shake ofthe big hand, and a grateful "Good-by, ma'am;" then the word wasgiven, and they were off. Bent on seeing the last of them, Tom and Itook a short cut, and came out on the wide street down which so manytroops marched that year; and, mounting some high steps, we watchedfor our man, as we already called him.As the inspiring music, the grand tramp, drew near, the old thrillwent through the crowd, the old cheer broke out. But it was adifferent scene now than in the first enthusiastic, hopeful days.Young men and ardent boys filled the ranks then, brave by instinct,burning with loyal zeal, and blissfully unconscious of all that laybefore them. Now the blue coats were worn by mature men, some gray,all grave and resolute: husbands and fathers, with the memory of wivesand children tugging at their heart-strings; homes left desolatebehind them, and before them the grim certainty of danger, hardship,and perhaps the lifelong helplessness worse than death. Little of theglamour of romance about the war now: they saw it as it was, a long,hard task; and here were the men to do it well. Even the lookers-onwere different now. Once all was wild enthusiasm and glad uproar; nowmen's lips were set, and women's smileless as they cheered; fewerhandkerchiefs whitened the air, for wet eyes needed them; and suddenlulls, almost solemn in their stillness, followed the acclamationsof the crowd. All watched with quickened breath and brave souls thatliving wave, blue below, and bright with a steely glitter above, asit flowed down the street and away to distant battle-fields alreadystained with precious blood."There he is! The outside man, and tallest of the lot. Give him acheer, auntie: he sees us, and remembers!" cried Tom, nearly tumblingoff his perch, as he waved his hat, and pointed out Joe Collins.Yes, there he was, looking up, with a smile on his brave brown face,my little nosegay in his button-hole, a suspicious bulge in the pocketclose by, and doubtless a comfortable quid in his mouth, to cheer theweary march. How like an old friend he looked, though we had only metfifteen minutes ago; how glad we were to be there to smile back athim, and send him on his way feeling that, even in a strange city,there was some one to say, "God bless you, Joe!" We watched thetallest blue cap till it vanished, and then went home in a glow ofpatriotism,--Tom to long for his turn to come, I to sew vigorously onthe gray gown the new nurse burned to wear as soon as possible, andboth of us to think and speak often of poor Joe Collins and hisLucindy. All this happened long ago; but it is well to recall thosestirring times,--to keep fresh the memory of sacrifices made for us bymen like these; to see to it that the debt we owe them is honestly,gladly paid; and, while we decorate the graves of those who died, toremember also those who still live to deserve our grateful care.
III never expected to see Joe again; but, six months later, we did meetin a Washington hospital one winter's night. A train of ambulances hadleft their sad freight at our door, and we were hurrying to get thepoor fellows into much needed beds, after a week of hunger, cold, andunavoidable neglect. All forms of pain were in my ward that night, andall borne with the pathetic patience which was a daily marvel to thosewho saw it.Trying to bring order out of chaos, I was rushing up and down thenarrow aisle between the rows of rapidly filling beds, and, afterbrushing several times against a pair of the largest and muddiestboots I ever saw, I paused at last to inquire why they were impedingthe passageway. I found they belonged to a very tall man who seemed tobe already asleep or dead, so white and still and utterly worn out helooked as he lay there, without a coat, a great patch on his forehead,and the right arm rudely bundled up. Stooping to cover him, I saw thathe was unconscious, and, whipping out my brandy-bottle and salts, soonbrought him round, for it was only exhaustion."Can you eat?" I asked, as he said, "Thanky, ma'am," after a longdraught of water and a dizzy stare."Eat! I'm starvin'!" he answered, with such a ravenous glance at afat nurse who happened to be passing, that I trembled for her, andhastened to take a bowl of soup from her tray.As I fed him, his gaunt, weather-beaten face had a familiar look; butso many such faces had passed before me that winter, I did not recallthis one till the ward-master came to put up the cards with thenew-comers' names above their beds. My man seemed absorbed in hisfood; but I naturally glanced at the card, and there was the name"Joseph Collins" to give me an additional interest in my new patient."Why, Joe! is it really you?" I exclaimed, pouring the last spoonfulof soup down his throat so hastily that I choked him."All that's left of me. Wal, ain't this luck, now?" gasped Joe, asgratefully as if that hospital-cot was a bed of roses."What is the matter? A wound in the head and arm?" I asked, feelingsure that no slight affliction had brought Joe there."Right arm gone. Shot off as slick as a whistle. I tell you, it's asing'lar kind of a feelin' to see a piece of your own body go flyin'away, with no prospect of ever coming back again," said Joe, trying tomake light of one of the greatest misfortunes a man can suffer."That is bad, but it might have been worse. Keep up your spirits, Joe;and we will soon have you fitted out with a new arm almost as good asnew.""I guess it won't do much lumberin', so that trade is done for. Is'pose there's things left-handed fellers can do, and I must learn 'emas soon as possible, since my fightin' days are over," and Joe lookedat his one arm with a sigh that was almost a groan, helplessness issuch a trial to a manly man,--and he was eminently so."What can I do to comfort you most, Joe? I'll send my good Ben to helpyou to bed, and will be here myself when the surgeon goes his rounds.Is there anything else that would make you more easy?""If you could just drop a line to mother to let her know I'm alive, itwould be a sight of comfort to both of us. I guess I'm in for a longspell of hospital, and I'd lay easier if I knew mother and Lucindywarn't frettin' about me."He must have been suffering terribly, but he thought of the women wholoved him before himself, and, busy as I was, I snatched a moment tosend a few words of hope to the old mother. Then I left him "layin'easy," though the prospect of some months of wearing pain would havedaunted most men. If I had needed anything to increase my regard forJoe, it would have been the courage with which he bore a very badquarter of an hour with the surgeons; for his arm was in a dangerousstate, the wound in the head feverish for want of care; and a heavycold on the lungs suggested pneumonia as an added trial to his list ofills."He will have a hard time of it, but I think he will pull through,as he is a temperate fellow, with a splendid constitution," was thedoctor's verdict, as he left us for the next man, who was past help,with a bullet through his lungs."I don'no as I hanker to live, and be a burden. If Jim was able to dofor mother, I feel as if I wouldn't mind steppin' out now I'm so furalong. As he ain't, I s'pose I must brace up, and do the best I can,"said Joe, as I wiped the drops from his forehead, and tried to look asif his prospect was a bright one."You will have Lucindy to help you, you know; and that will makethings easier for all.""Think so? 'Pears to me I couldn't ask her to take care of threeinvalids for my sake. She ain't no folks of her own, nor much means,and ought to marry a man who can make things easy for her. Guess I'llhave to wait a spell longer before I say anything to Lucindy aboutmarryin' now;" and a look of resolute resignation settled on Joe'shaggard face as he gave up his dearest hope."I think Lucindy will have something to say, if she is like mostwomen, and you will find the burdens much lighter, for sharing thembetween you. Don't worry about that, but get well, and go home as soonas you can.""All right, ma'am;" and Joe proved himself a good soldier by obeyingorders, and falling asleep like a tired child, as the first steptoward recovery.For two months I saw Joe daily, and learned to like him very much, hewas so honest, genuine, and kind-hearted. So did his mates, for hemade friends with them all by sharing such small luxuries as came tohim, for he was a favorite; and, better still, he made sunshine inthat sad place by the brave patience with which he bore his owntroubles, the cheerful consolation he always gave to others. A drollfellow was Joe at times, for under his sobriety lay much humor; and Isoon discovered that a visit from him was more efficacious than othercordials in cases of despondency and discontent. Roars of laughtersometimes greeted me as I went into his ward, and Joe's jokes werepassed round as eagerly as the water-pitcher.Yet he had much to try him, not only in the ills that vexed his flesh,but the cares that tried his spirit, and the future that lay beforehim, full of anxieties and responsibilities which seemed so heavy nowwhen the strong right arm, that had cleared all obstacles away before,was gone. The letters I wrote for him, and those he received, toldthe little story very plainly; for he read them to me, and found muchcomfort in talking over his affairs, as most men do when illnessmakes them dependent on a woman. Jim was evidently sick and selfish.Lucindy, to judge from the photograph cherished so tenderly underJoe's pillow, was a pretty, weak sort of a girl, with little characteror courage to help poor Joe with his burdens. The old mother was verylike her son, and stood by him "like a hero," as he said, but wasevidently failing, and begged him to come home as soon as he was able,that she might see him comfortably settled before she must leave him.Her courage sustained his, and the longing to see her hastened hisdeparture as soon as it was safe to let him go; for Lucindy's letterswere always of a dismal sort, and made him anxious to put his shoulderto the wheel."She always set consider'ble by me, mother did, bein' the oldest; andI wouldn't miss makin' her last days happy, not if it cost me all thearms and legs I've got," said Joe, as he awkwardly struggled into thebig boots an hour after leave to go home was given him.It was pleasant to see his comrades gather round him with such heartyadieus that his one hand must have tingled; to hear the good wishesand the thanks called after him by pale creatures in their beds; andto find tears in many eyes beside my own when he was gone, and nothingwas left of him but the empty cot, the old gray wrapper, and the nameupon the wall.I kept that card among my other relics, and hoped to meet Joe againsomewhere in the world. He sent me one or two letters, then I wenthome; the war ended soon after, time passed, and the little story ofmy Maine lumberman was laid away with many other experiences whichmade that part of my life a very memorable one.
IIISome years later, as I looked out of my window one dull November day,the only cheerful thing I saw was the red cap of a messenger who wasexamining the slate that hung on a wall opposite my hotel. A tall manwith gray hair and beard, one arm, and a blue army-coat. I alwayssalute, figuratively at least, when I see that familiar blue,especially if one sleeve of the coat is empty; so I watched themessenger with interest as he trudged away on some new errand, wishinghe had a better day and a thicker pair of boots. He was an unusuallylarge, well-made man, and reminded me of a fine building going toruin before its time; for the broad shoulders were bent, there was astiffness about the long legs suggestive of wounds or rheumatism, andthe curly hair looked as if snow had fallen on it too soon. Sitting atwork in my window, I fell into the way of watching my Red Cap, as Icalled him, with more interest than I did the fat doves on the roofopposite, or the pert sparrows hopping in the mud below. I liked thesteady way in which he plodded on through fair weather or foul, as ifintent on doing well the one small service he had found to do. I likedhis cheerful whistle as he stood waiting for a job under the porchof the public building where his slate hung, watching the luxuriouscarriages roll by, and the well-to-do gentlemen who daily passed himto their comfortable homes, with a steady, patient sort of face, as ifwondering at the inequalities of fortune, yet neither melancholy normorose over the small share of prosperity which had fallen to his lot.I often planned to give him a job, that I might see him nearer; butI had few errands, and little Bob, the hall-boy, depended on doingthose: so the winter was nearly over before I found out that my RedCap was an old friend.A parcel came for me one day, and bidding the man wait for an answer,I sat down to write it, while the messenger stood just inside thedoor like a sentinel on duty. When I looked up to give my note anddirections, I found the man staring at me with a beaming yet bashfulface, as he nodded, saying heartily,--"I mistrusted it was you, ma'am, soon's I see the name on the bundle,and I guess I ain't wrong. It's a number of years sence we met, andyou don't remember Joe Collins as well as he does you, I reckon?""Why, how you have changed! I've been seeing you every day all winter,and never knew you," I said, shaking hands with my old patient, andvery glad to see him."Nigh on to twenty years makes consid'able of a change in folks,'specially if they have a pretty hard row to hoe.""Sit down and warm yourself while you tell me all about it; there isno hurry for this answer, and I'll pay for your time."Joe laughed as if that was a good joke, and sat down as if the firewas quite as welcome as the friend."How are they all at home?" I asked, as he sat turning his cap round,not quite knowing where to begin."I haven't got any home nor any folks neither;" and the melancholywords banished the brightness from his rough face like a cloud."Mother died soon after I got back. Suddin', but she was ready, and Iwas there, so she was happy. Jim lived a number of years, and was asight of care, poor feller; but we managed to rub along, though we hadto sell the farm: for I couldn't do much with one arm, and doctor'sbills right along stiddy take a heap of money. He was as comfortableas he could be; and, when he was gone, it wasn't no great matter, forthere was only me, and I don't mind roughin' it.""But Lucindy, where was she?" I asked very naturally."Oh! she married another man long ago. Couldn't expect her to takeme and my misfortins. She's doin' well, I hear, and that's a comfortanyway."There was a look on Joe's face, a tone in Joe's voice as he spoke,that plainly showed how much he had needed comfort when left to bearhis misfortunes all alone. But he made no complaint, uttered noreproach, and loyally excused Lucindy's desertion with a simple sortof dignity that made it impossible to express pity or condemnation."How came you here, Joe?" I asked, making a sudden leap from past topresent."I had to scratch for a livin', and can't do much: so, after tryin' anumber of things, I found this. My old wounds pester me a good deal,and rheumatism is bad winters; but, while my legs hold out, I can giton. A man can't set down and starve; so I keep waggin' as long as Ican. When I can't do no more, I s'pose there's almshouse and hospitalready for me.""That is a dismal prospect, Joe. There ought to be a comfortable placefor such as you to spend your last days in. I am sure you have earnedit.""Wal, it does seem ruther hard on us when we've give all we had, andgive it free and hearty, to be left to knock about in our old age. Butthere's so many poor folks to be took care of, we don't get much ofa chance, for we ain't the beggin' sort," said Joe, with a wistfullook at the wintry world outside, as if it would be better to liequiet under the snow, than to drag out his last painful years,friendless and forgotten, in some refuge of the poor."Some kind people have been talking of a home for soldiers, and I hopethe plan will be carried out. It will take time; but, if it comes topass, you shall be one of the first men to enter that home, Joe, if Ican get you there.""That sounds mighty cheerin' and comfortable, thanky, ma'am. Idlenessis dreadful tryin' to me, and I'd rather wear out than rust out; so Iguess I can weather it a spell longer. But it will be pleasant to lookforrard to a snug harbor bymeby. I feel a sight better just hearin'tell about it." He certainly looked so, faint as the hope was; for themelancholy eyes brightened as if they already saw a happier refuge inthe future than almshouse, hospital, or grave, and, when he trudgedaway upon my errand, he went as briskly as if every step took himnearer to the promised home.After that day it was all up with Bob, for I told my neighbors Joe'sstory, and we kept him trotting busily, adding little gifts, andtaking the sort of interest in him that comforted the lonely fellow,and made him feel that he had not outlived his usefulness. I neverlooked out when he was at his post that he did not smile back at me; Inever passed him in the street that the red cap was not touched with amilitary flourish; and, when any of us beckoned to him, no twinge ofrheumatism was too sharp to keep him from hurrying to do our errands,as if he had Mercury's winged feet.Now and then he came in for a chat, and always asked how the Soldiers'Home was prospering; expressing his opinion that "Boston was thecharitablest city under the sun, and he was sure he and his mateswould be took care of somehow."When we parted in the spring, I told him things looked hopeful, badehim be ready for a good long rest as soon as the hospitable doors wereopen, and left him nodding cheerfully.
IVBut in the autumn I looked in vain for Joe. The slate was in its oldplace, and a messenger came and went on his beat; but a strange facewas under the red cap, and this man had two arms and one eye. I askedfor Collins, but the new-comer had only a vague idea that he was dead;and the same answer was given me at headquarters, though none of thebusy people seemed to know when or where he died. So I mourned forJoe, and felt that it was very hard he could not have lived to enjoythe promised refuge; for, relying upon the charity that never fails,the Home was an actual fact now, just beginning its beneficent career.People were waking up to this duty, money was coming in, meetings werebeing held, and already a few poor fellows were in the refuge, feelingthemselves no longer paupers, but invalid soldiers honorably supportedby the State they had served. Talking it over one day with a friend,who spent her life working for the Associated Charities, she said,--"By the way, there is a man boarding with one of my poor women, whoought to be got into the Home, if he will go. I don't know much abouthim, except that he was in the army, has been very ill with rheumaticfever, and is friendless. I asked Mrs. Flanagin how she managed tokeep him, and she said she had help while he was sick, and now he isable to hobble about, he takes care of the children, so she is able togo out to work. He won't go to his own town, because there is nothingfor him there but the almshouse, and he dreads a hospital; sostruggles along, trying to earn his bread tending babies with his onearm. A sad case, and in your line; I wish you'd look into it.""That sounds like my Joe, one arm and all. I'll go and see him; I've aweakness for soldiers, sick or well."I went, and never shall forget the pathetic little tableau I saw as Iopened Mrs. Flanagin's dingy door; for she was out, and no one heardmy tap. The room was redolent of suds, and in a grove of damp clotheshung on lines sat a man with a crying baby laid across his lap, whilehe fed three small children standing at his knee with bread andmolasses. How he managed with one arm to keep the baby from squirmingon to the floor, the plate from upsetting, and to feed the hungryurchins who stood in a row with open mouths, like young birds, waspast my comprehension. But he did, trotting baby gently, dealing outsweet morsels patiently, and whistling to himself, as if to beguilehis labors cheerfully.The broad back, the long legs, the faded coat, the low whistle wereall familiar; and, dodging a wet sheet, I faced the man to find itwas indeed my Joe! A mere shadow of his former self, after months ofsuffering that had crippled him for life, but brave and patient still;trying to help himself, and not ask aid though brought so low.For an instant I could not speak to him, and, encumbered with baby,dish, spoon, and children, he could only stare at me with a suddenbrightening of the altered face that made it full of welcome before aword was uttered."They told me you were dead, and I only heard of you by accident, notknowing I should find my old friend alive, but not well, I'm afraid?""There ain't much left of me but bones and pain, ma'am. I'm powerfulglad to see you all the same. Dust off a chair, Patsey, and let thelady set down. You go in the corner, and take turns lickin' the dish,while I see company," said Joe, disbanding his small troop, andshouldering the baby as if presenting arms in honor of his guest."Why didn't you let me know how sick you were? And how came they tothink you dead?" I asked, as he festooned the wet linen out of theway, and prepared to enjoy himself as best he could."I did send once, when things was at the wust; but you hadn't gotback, and then somehow I thought I was goin' to be mustered out forgood, and so wouldn't trouble nobody. But my orders ain't come yet,and I am doing the fust thing that come along. It ain't much, but thegood soul stood by me, and I ain't ashamed to pay my debts this way,sence I can't do it in no other;" and Joe cradled the chubby baby inhis one arm as tenderly as if it had been his own, though little Biddywas not an inviting infant."That is very beautiful and right, Joe, and I honor you for it; butyou were not meant to tend babies, so sing your last lullabies, and beready to go to the Home as soon as I can get you there.""Really, ma'am? I used to lay and kind of dream about it when Icouldn't stir without yellin' out; but I never thought it would evercome to happen. I see a piece in the paper describing it, and itsounded dreadful nice. Shouldn't wonder if I found some of my matesthere. They were a good lot, and deservin' of all that could be donefor 'em," said Joe, trotting the baby briskly, as if the prospectexcited him, as well it might, for the change from that damp nurseryto the comfortable quarters prepared for him would be like going fromPurgatory to Paradise."I don't wonder you don't get well living in such a place, Joe. Youshould have gone home to Woolwich, and let your friends help you," Isaid, feeling provoked with him for hiding himself."No, ma'am!" he answered, with a look I never shall forget, it was sofull of mingled patience, pride, and pain. "I haven't a relationin the world but a couple of poor old aunts, and they couldn't doanything for me. As for asking help of folks I used to know, Icouldn't do it; and if you think I'd go to Lucindy, though she is waloff, you don't know Joe Collins. I'd die fust! If she was poor and Irich, I'd do for her like a brother; but I couldn't ask no favors ofher, not if I begged my vittles in the street, or starved. I forgive,but I don't forgit in a hurry; and the woman that stood by me when Iwas down is the woman I believe in, and can take my bread from withoutshame. Hooray for Biddy Flanagin! God bless her!" and, as if to find avent for the emotion that filled his eyes with grateful tears, Joeled off the cheer, which the children shrilly echoed, and I joinedheartily."I shall come for you in a few days; so cuddle the baby and make muchof the children before you part. It won't take you long to pack up,will it?" I asked, as we subsided with a general laugh."I reckon not as I don't own any clothes but what I set in, except acouple of old shirts and them socks. My hat's stoppin' up the winder,and my old coat is my bed-cover. I'm awful shabby, ma'am, and that'sone reason I don't go out more. I can hobble some, but I ain't gotused to bein' a scarecrow yet," and Joe glanced from the hose withoutheels that hung on the line to the ragged suit he wore, with aresigned expression that made me long to rush out and buy up half thecontents of Oak Hall on the spot.Curbing this wild impulse I presently departed with promises of speedytransportation for Joe, and unlimited oranges to assuage the pangs ofparting for the young Flanagins, who escorted me to the door, whileJoe waved the baby like a triumphal banner till I got round thecorner.There was such a beautiful absence of red tape about the newinstitution that it only needed a word in the right ear to set thingsgoing; and then, with a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull alltogether, Joe Collins was taken up and safely landed in the Home he somuch needed and so well deserved.A happier man or a more grateful one it would be hard to find, and ifa visitor wants an enthusiastic guide about the place, Joe is the oneto take, for all is comfort, sunshine, and good-will to him; andhe unconsciously shows how great the need of this refuge is, ashe hobbles about on his lame feet, pointing out its beauties,conveniences, and delights with his one arm, while his face shines,and his voice quavers a little as he says gratefully,--"The State don't forget us, you see, and this is a Home wuth havin'.Long life to it!"
My Red Cap was featured as
TheShort Story of the Day on
Mon, Feb 17, 2014
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