Madge　was　of　opinion　that　the　world　would　have　had　enough　of　war。　Not　armies　but　whole　peoples　would　be　involved　this　time。　　The　lesson　would　be　driven　home。
  〃Oh；　yes；　we　shall　have　had　enough　of　it；〃　agreed　Flossie；　〃by　the　time　we've　paid　up。　　There's　no　doubt　of　that。　　What　about　our　children？　　I've　just　left　young　Frank　strutting　all　over　the　house　and　flourishing　a　paper　knife。　　And　the　servants　have　had　to　bar　the　kitchen　door　to　prevent　his　bursting　in　every　five　minutes　and　attacking　them。　　What's　he　going　to　say　when　I　tell　him；　later　on；　that　his　father　and　myself　have　had　all　the　war　we　want；　and　have　decided　there　shall　be　no　more？　　The　old　folks　have　had　their　fun。　Why　shouldn't　I　have　mine？　　That　will　be　his　argument。〃
  〃You　can't　do　it；〃　she　concluded；　〃unless　you　are　prepared　to　keep　half　the　world's　literature　away　from　the　children；　scrap　half　your　music；　edit　your　museums　and　your　picture　galleries；　bowdlerize　your　Old　Testament　and　rewrite　your　histories。　　And　then　you'll　have　to　be　careful　for　twenty…four　hours　a　day　that　they　never　see　a　dog…fight。〃
  Madge　still　held　to　her　hope。　　God　would　make　a　wind　of　reason　to　pass　over　the　earth。　　He　would　not　smite　again　his　people。
  〃I　wish　poor　dear　Sam　could　have　been　kept　out　of　it；〃　said　Flossie。　　She　wiped　her　eyes　and　finished　her　tea。
  Joan　had　arranged　to　leave　on　the　Monday。　　She　ran　down　to　see　Mary　Stopperton　on　the　Saturday　afternoon。　　Mr。　Stopperton　had　died　the　year　before；　and　Mary　had　been　a　little　hurt；　divining　insincerity　in　the　condolences　offered　to　her　by　most　of　her　friends。
  〃You　didn't　know　him；　dear；〃　she　had　said　to　Joan。　　〃All　his　faults　were　on　the　outside。〃
  She　did　not　want　to　talk　about　the　war。
  〃Perhaps　it's　wrong　of　me；〃　she　said。　　〃But　it　makes　me　so　sad。　And　I　can　do　nothing。〃
  She　had　been　busy　at　her　machine　when　Joan　had　entered；　and　a　pile　of　delicate　white　work　lay　folded　on　a　chair　beside　her。
  〃What　are　you　making？〃　asked　Joan。
  The　little　withered　face　lighted　up。　　〃Guess；〃　she　said；　as　she　unfolded　and　displayed　a　tiny　garment。
  〃I　so　love　making　them；〃　she　said。　　〃I　say　to　myself；　'It　will　all　come　right。　　God　will　send　more　and　more　of　His　Christ　babies；　till　at　last　there　will　be　thousands　and　thousands　of　them　everywhere；　and　their　love　will　change　the　world！'〃
  Her　bright　eyes　had　caught　sight　of　the　ring　upon　Joan's　hand。　　She　touched　it　with　her　little　fragile　fingers。
  〃You　will　let　me　make　one　for　you；　dearie；　won't　you？〃　she　said。　〃I　feel　sure　it　will　be　a　little　Christ　baby。〃
  Arthur　was　still　away　when　she　arrived　home。　　He　had　gone　to　Norway　on　business。　　Her　father　was　afraid　he　would　find　it　difficult　to　get　back。　　Telegraphic　communication　had　been　stopped；　and　they　had　had　no　news　of　him。　　Her　father　was　worried。　　A　big　Government　contract　had　come　in；　while　many　of　his　best　men　had　left　to　enlist。
  〃I've　fixed　you　up　all　right　at　the　hospital；〃　he　said。　　〃It　was　good　of　you　to　think　of　coming　home。　　Don't　go　away；　for　a　bit。〃　It　was　the　first　time　he　had　asked　anything　of　her。
  Another　fortnight　passed　before　they　heard　from　Arthur；　and　then　he　wrote　them　both　from　Hull。　　He　would　be　somewhere　in　the　North　Sea；　mine　sweeping；　when　they　read　his　letters。　　He　had　hoped　to　get　a　day　or　two　to　run　across　and　say　good…bye；　but　the　need　for　men　was　pressing　and　he　had　not　liked　to　plead　excuses。　　The　boat　by　which　he　had　managed　to　leave　Bergen　had　gone　down。　　He　and　a　few　others　had　been　picked　up；　but　the　sights　that　he　had　seen　were　haunting　him。　　He　felt　sure　his　uncle　would　agree　that　he　ought　to　be　helping；　and　this　was　work　for　England　he　could　do　with　all　his　heart。　　He　hoped　he　was　not　leaving　his　uncle　in　the　lurch；　but　he　did　not　think　the　war　would　last　long；　and　he　would　soon　be　back。
  〃Dear　lad；〃　said　her　father；　〃he　would　take　the　most　dangerous　work　that　he　could　find。　　But　I　wish　he　hadn't　been　quite　so　impulsive。　He　could　have　been　of　more　use　helping　me　with　this　War　Office　contract。　　I　suppose　he　never　got　my　letter；　telling　him　about　it。〃
  In　his　letter　to　Joan　he　went　further。　　He　had　received　his　uncle's　letter；　so　he　confided　to　her。　　Perhaps　she　would　think　him　a　crank；　but　he　couldn't　help　it。　　He　hated　this　killing　business；　this　making　of　machinery　for　slaughtering　men　in　bulk；　like　they　killed　pigs　in　Chicago。　　Out　on　the　free；　sweet　sea；　helping　to　keep　it　clean　from　man's　abominations；　he　would　be　away　from　it　all。
  She　saw　the　vision　of　him　that　night；　as；　leaning　from　her　window；　she　looked　out　beyond　the　pines：　　the　little　lonely　ship　amid　the　waste　of　waters；　his　beautiful；　almost　womanish；　face；　and　the　gentle　dreamy　eyes　with　their　haunting　suggestion　of　a　shadow。
  Her　little　drummer　played　less　and　less　frequently　to　her　as　the　months　passed　by。　　It　didn't　seem　to　be　the　war　he　had　looked　forward　to。　　The　illustrated　papers　continued　to　picture　it　as　a　sort　of　glorified　picnic　where　smiling　young　men　lolled　luxuriously　in　cosy　dug…outs；　reading　their　favourite　paper。　　By　curious　coincidence；　it　generally　happened　to　be　the　journal　publishing　the　photograph。　　Occasionally；　it　appeared；　they　came　across　the　enemy；　who　then　put　up　both　hands　and　shouted　〃Kamerad。〃　　But　the　weary；　wounded　men　she　talked　to　told　another　story。
  She　grew　impatient　of　the　fighters　with　their　mouths；　the　savage　old　baldheads　heroically　prepared　to　sacrifice　the　last　young　man；　the　sleek；　purring　women　who　talked　childish　nonsense　about　killing　every　man；　woman　and　child　in　Germany；　but　quite　meant　it；　the　shrieking　journalists　who　had　decided　that　their　place　was　the　home　front；　the　press…spurred　mobs；　the　spy　hunters；　chasing　terrified　old　men　and　sobbing　children　through　the　streets。　　It　was　a　relief　to　enter　the　quiet　ward　and　close　the　door　behind　her。　　The　camp…　followers：　　the　traders　and　pedlars；　the　balladmongers；　and　the　mountebanks；　the　ghoulish　sightseers！　　War　brought　out　all　that　was　worst　in　them。　　But　the　givers　of　their　blood；　the　lads　who　suffered；　who　had　made　the　sacrifice：　　war　had　taught　them　chivalry；　manhood。　　She　heard　no　revilings　of　hatred　and　revenge　from　those　drawn　lips。　　Patience；　humour；　forgiveness；　they　had　learnt　from　war。　　They　told　her　kindly　stories　even　of　Hans　and　Fritz。
  The　little　drummer　in　her　brain　would　creep　out　of　his　corner；　play　to　her　softly　while　she　moved　about　among　them。
  One　day　she　received　a　letter　from　Folk。　　He　had　come　to　London　at　the　request　of　the　French　Government　to　consult　with　English　artists　on　a　matter　he　must　not　mention。　　He　would　not　have　the　time；　he　told　her；　to　run　down　to　Liverpool。　　Could　she　get　a　couple　of　days'　leave　and　dine　with　him　in　London。
  She　found　him　in　the　uniform　of　a　French　Colonel。　　He　had　quite　a　military　bearing　and　seemed　pleased　with　himself。　　He　kissed　her　hand；　and　then　held　her　out　at　arms'　length。
  〃It's　wonderful　how　like　you　are　to　your　mother；〃　he　said；　〃I　wish　I　were　as　young　as　I　feel。〃
  She　had　written　him　at　the　beginning　of　the　war；　telling　him　of　her　wish　to　get　out　to　the　front；　and　he　thought　that　now　he　might　be　able　to　help　her。
  〃But　perhaps　you've　changed　your　mind；〃　he　said。　　〃It　isn't　quite　as　pretty　as　it's　painted。〃
  〃I　want　to；〃　she　answered。　　〃It　isn't　all　curiosity。　　I　think　it's　time　for　women　to　insist　on　seeing　war　with　their　own　eyes；　not　trust　any　longer　to　the　pictures　you　men　paint。〃　　She　smiled。
  〃But　I've　got　to　give　it　up；〃　she　added。　　〃I　can't　leave　Dad。〃
  They　were　sitting　in　the　hall　of　the　hotel。　　It　was　the　dressing　hour　and　the　place　was　almost　empty。　　He　shot　a　swift　glance　at　her。
  〃Arthur　is　still　away；〃　she　explained；　〃and　I　feel　that　he　wants　me。　　I　should　be　worrying　myself；　thinking　of　him　all　alone　with　no　one　to　look　after　him。　　It's　the　mother　instinct　I　suppose。　　It　always　has　hampered　woman。〃　　She　laughed。
  〃Dear　old　boy；〃　he　said。　　He　was　watching　her　with　a　little　smile。　〃I'm　glad　he's　got　some　luck　at　last。〃
  They　dined　in　the　great　restaurant　belonging　to　the　hotel。　　He　was　still　vastly　pleased　with　himself　as　he　marched　up　the　crowded　room　with　Joan　upon　his　arm。　　He　held　himself　upright　and　talked　and　laughed　perhaps　louder　than　an　elderly　gentleman　should。　〃Swaggering　old　beggar；〃　he　must　have　overheard　a　young　sub。　mutter　as　they　passed。　　But　he　did　not　seem　to　mind　it。
  They　lingered　over　the　meal。　　Folk　was　a　brilliant　talker。　　Most　of　the　men　whose　names　were　filling　the　newspapers　had　sat　to　him　at　one　time　or　another。　　He　made　them　seem　quite　human。　　Joan　was　surprised　at　the　time。
  〃Come　up　to　my　rooms；　will　you？〃　he　asked。　　〃There's　something　I　want　to　say　to　you。　　And　then　I'll　walk　back　with　you。〃　　She　was　staying　at　a　small　hotel　off　Jermyn　Street。
  He　sat　her　down　by　the　fire　and　went　into　the　next　room。　　He　had　a　letter　in　his　hand　when　he　returned。　　Joan　noticed　that　the　envelope　was　written　upon　across　the　corner；　but　she　was　not　near　enough　to　distinguish　the　handwriting。　　He　placed　it　on　the　mantelpiece　and　sat　down　opposite　her。
  〃So　you　have　come　to　love　the　dear　old　chap；〃　he　said。
  〃I　have　always　loved　him；〃　Joan　answered。　　〃It　was　he　didn't　love　me；　for　a　time；　as　I　thought。　　But　I　know　now　that　he　does。〃
  He　was　silent　for　a　few　moments；　and　then