I want to try to make it all right with mother.

I can't believe that I said what I remember I did say before her who'd be glad to die for us." "Everything'll be all right when you come back, Artie," she assured him.
As they passed the outbuilding where the garden tools were kept they both glanced in.

There stood the tools their father had always used in pottering about the garden, above them his old slouch and old straw hats.
Arthur's lip quivered; Adelaide caught her breath in a sob.

"O Artie," she cried brokenly, "He's gone--gone--gone for ever." And Artie sat on the little bench just within the door and drew Del down beside him, and, each tightly in the other's arms, they cried like the children that they were, like the children that we all are in face of the great tragedy.
A handsome and touching figure was Arthur Ranger as he left his cab and slowly ascended the lawn and the steps of the Whitney palace in the Lake Drive at eleven the next morning.

His mourning garments were most becoming to him, contrasting with the fairness of his hair, the blue of his eyes, and the pallor of his skin.