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What a crazy idea! Glad, when it had all come about only because Uncle Isaac was dead—dear, good, kind Uncle Isaac! Every time Johnny Blossom thought of him a lump came in his throat. Then he would whistle to try to get the lump away, but whistling did not help greatly, for he was very sorry and missed Uncle Isaac so much. No, glad about it he could never be, never in the world., [218]The day and night passed quietly, but the next morning the mess room of the Quarter-house was in a turmoil. News had come in that a gang of Mexican bandits had made a raid on Columbus, killing and wounding many Americans. This report was unconfirmed but rumors flew thick and fast. Some had it that it was the army of Carranza and others that it was merely an unorganized deed of a rash bandit. Most of the men thought it was Villa., Madame hurried Julia, who was almost as lifeless as her departed friend, from the church. A death so sudden heightened the grief which separation would otherwise have occasioned. It was the nature of Cornelia's disorder to wear a changeful but flattering aspect. Though she had long been declining, her decay was so gradual and imperceptible as to lull the apprehensions of her friends into security. It was otherwise with herself; she was conscious of the change, but forbore to afflict them with the knowledge of the truth. The hour of her dissolution was sudden, even to herself; but it was composed, and even happy. In the death of Cornelia, Julia seemed to mourn again that of Hippolitus. Her decease appeared to dissolve the last tie which connected her with his memory..