But the daily sight of it from her bedroom window no longer brings pain to the Little Colonel.

Hero is only a tender memory now, and she counts the Red Cross above him as another talisman, like the little ring and the silver scissors, to remind her that only through unselfish service to others can one reach the happiness that is highest and best.
Time flies fast under the locusts.

Sometimes to Papa Jack it seems only yesterday that she clattered up and down the wide halls with her grandfather's spurs buckled to her tiny feet.

But if he misses the charm of the baby voice that called to him then, or the childish mischievousness of his Little Colonel, he finds a greater one in the flower-like beauty of the tall, slender girl who stands beside the gilded harp, and sings to him softly in the candle-light.

And it is Betty's song of service that is oftenest on her lips: "My godmother bids me spin, That my heart may not be sad; Sing and spin for my brother's sake, And the spinning makes me glad." She knows that she can never be a Joan of Arc or a Clara Barton, and her name will never be written in America's hall of fame, but with the sweet ambition in her heart to make life a little lovelier for every one she touches, she is growing up into a veritable Princess Winsome.
Often as she sings, Betty closes her book to listen, thrilled with the old feeling that always comes with the music of the harp.