id Phoebe proudly, "to write as though
it was carelessness caused the accident, when we know he got others to
safety and never thought of himself. He was just as brave as the boys
who fight."

"Yes. There is still much to be thankful for. Many mothers will get
sadder news than mine. You must write him a long letter."

It was a long letter, indeed, that the mother dictated to her boy. When
it was written Phoebe added a little postscript, "David, I'm mighty
proud of you!" To this he responded, "Thank you for your pride in me,
but don't you go making a hero of me; I can't live up to that when I get
home. Guess I'll be sent back as soon as my leg is healed. Uncle Sam has
no need of me here since I bungled things and left a leg in Paris. I'll
have to do the rest of my bit on the farm. I wasn't a howling success as
a farmer when I had two legs, but perhaps my luck has turned. I'm going
to raise chickens and do my best to make the little farm a paying one."

"He's the same cheerful David," thought the girl, "and we'll have to
keep cheerful about it, too."

But it was no easy matter to continue steadfast in cheerfulness during
the long days of the summer. Phoebe and Mother Bab shared the anxiety of
many others as the news came that the armies of the enemy were pushing
nearer to Paris, nearer, and nearer, with the Americans and their allies
fighting like demons and contesting every inch of the ground. A fear
rose in Phoebe--what if the Germans should reach Paris, what if they
should win the war! "But it can't be!" she thought.

Her confidence was not unwarranted. Soon came the turn of the tide and
the German drive was checked. One July day shrieking whistles, frenzied
ringing of bells, impromptu parades and waving flags, spread the news
that "America's contemptible little army" was helping to push the
Germans back, back!

"It's the beginning of the end for the Germans," said Phoebe jubilantly
as she ran to Mother Bab with the news. "If they once start running
they'll sprint pretty lively. We'll have to tell David about the
excitement in town when the whistles blew--but, ach, I forgot! He won't
think that was much excitement after he's been in _real_ excitement."

Mother Bab laughed with the girl. "But we'll have lots to tell him when
he comes back," she said. "And won't he be glad I can see!"

CHAPTER XXXVI

DAVID'S RETURN

IT was October of 1918 when David Eby alighted from the train at
Greenwald and started