of two weeks would have seemed herculean. But in this
time of stress and change, when every household in every street in every
town in all the country was feeling the tremor of upheaval, the
readjustment of this little family and business group was so
unremarkable as to pass unnoticed. Even the members of the group itself,
seeing themselves scattered to camp, to France, to New York, to the
Middle West, shuffled like pawns that the Great Game might the better be
won, felt strangely unconcerned and unruffled.

It was little more than two weeks after the night of Emma's awakening
that she was talking fast to keep from crying hard, as she stuffed
plain, practical blue serge garments (unmilitary) into a bellows
suitcase ("Can't count on trunks these days," she had said. "I'm not
taking any chances on a clean shirtwaist"). Buck, standing in the
doorway, tried hard to keep his gaze from the contemplation of his
khaki-clad self reflected in the long mirror. At intervals he said:
"Can't I help, dear?" Or, "Talk about the early Pilgrim mothers, and the
Revolutionary mothers, and the Civil War mothers! I'd like to know what
they had on you, Emma."

And from Emma: "Yeh, ain't I noble!" Then, after a little pause: "This
house is going to be so full of wimmin folks it'll look like a Home for
Decayed Gentlewomen. Buddy McChesney, aged six months, is going to be
the only male protector around the place. We'll make him captain of the
home guard."

"Gertie was in to-day. She says I'm a shrimp in my uniform compared to
Charley. You know she always was the nerviest little stenographer we
ever had about the place, but she knows more about Featherlooms than any
woman in the shop except you. She's down to ninety-eight pounds, poor
little girl, but every ounce of it's pure pluck, and she says she'll be
as good as new in a month or two, and I honestly believe she will."

Emma was counting a neat stack of folded handkerchiefs.
"Seventeen--eighteen--When she comes back we'll have to pay her twice
the salary she got when she left. But, then, you have to pay an errand
boy what you used to pay a shipping clerk, and a stock girl demands
money that an operator used to brag about--nineteen--"

Buck came over to her and put a hand on the bright hair that was
rumpled, now, from much diving into bags and suitcases and clothes
closets.

"All except you, Emma. You'll be working without a salary--working like
a man--like three men--"

"Working for t