his morning and Phares
read it for me, but I want to hear it again. Will you read it, Phoebe?
Did David write to you this week yet?"

"No." The girl felt the color surging to her cheeks. "He doesn't write
to me very often. He knows I read your letters."

"Ach, yes. I guess he's busy, too. It's a big change for him to be
learning to be a sailor when he always had his feet on dry land. But
read the letter; it's a nice big one."

Phoebe's clear laughter joined Mother Bab's at one paragraph: "Do you
remember the blue sailor suits you used to make for me when I was a tiny
chap? And once you made me a real tam and I was proud as a peacock in
it. Well, since I'm here and wearing a sailor suit I feel like a
masculine edition of Alice in Wonderland when she felt herself growing
bigger and bigger and I wonder sometimes if I'll shrink back again and
be just that little boy."

Another portion of the letter set Phoebe's voice trembling as she read,
"I must tell you again, mother, how thankful I am that you made it so
much easier for me to go than I dreamed it could be. You are so fine
about it. With a mother as plucky as you I can't very well be a
jelly-fish. It's great to have a mother one has to reach high to live up
to."

"Just like David," said Phoebe as she laid the letter aside. "Of course
I think war is dreadful, but the training is going to do wonders for
many of the men."

"Yes," said the white-capped woman. "Out of it some good will come.
Selfishness is going to be erased clean from the souls of many people by
the time war is over."

"But we must pay a big price for all we gain from it."

"Yes--I wonder--I guess Davie will be going over soon. He said, you
know, that if we don't hear from him for a while not to worry. I guess
that means he thinks he'll be going over."

When, at length, news came from the other side it was Phoebe who was the
bringer of the tidings.

"Oh, Mother Bab," she cried breathlessly one day in autumn as she ran
back from the gate after a visit from the postman, "it's a letter from
France!"

Phares Eby and his mother ran at the news and the four stood, an eager
group, as Phoebe opened the letter.

"Read it, Phoebe! He's over safely!" Mother Bab's voice was eager.

"I--I can't read it. I'm too excited. I can't get my breath. You read
it, Phares."

The preacher read in his slow, calm way.

"_Somewhere in France._

"DEAR MOTHER:

"You see by