r. It was not
easier for us. Indeed, it was harder than it had been before, just as
it had been harder for us to say good-by the second time. But we
thought less often of the strangeness of it. We were really growing
used to the war, and it was less the monstrous, strange thing than it
had been in our daily lives. War had become our daily life and
portion in Britain. All who were not slackers were doing their part--
every one. Man and woman and child were in it, making sacrifices.
Those happy days of peace lay far behind us, and we had lost our
touch with them and our memory of them was growing dim. We were all
in it. We had all to suffer alike, we were all in the same boat, we
mothers and fathers and sweethearts of Britain. And so it was easier
for us not to think too much and too often of our own griefs and
cares and anxieties.

John's letters began to come again in a steady stream. He was as
careful as ever about writing. There was scarcely a day that did not
bring its letter to one of the three of us. And what bonnie, brave
letters they were! They were as cheerful and as bright as his first
letters had been. If John had bad hours and bad days out there he
would not let us know it. He told us what news there was, and he was
always cheerful and bright when he wrote. He let no hint of
discouragement creep into anything he wrote to us. He thought of
others first, always and all the time; of his men, and of us at home.
He was quite cured and well, he told us, and going back had done him
good instead of harm. He wrote to us that he felt as if he had come
home. He felt, you ken, that it was there, in France and in the
trenches, that men should feel at home in those days, and not safe in
Britain by their ain firesides.

It was not easy for me to be cheerful and comfortable about him,
though. I had my work to do. I tried to do it as well as I could, for
I knew that that would please him. My band still went up and down the
country, getting recruits, and I was speaking, too, and urging men
myself to go out and join the lads who were fighting and dying for
them in France. They told me I was doing good work; that I was a
great force in the war. And I did, indeed, get many a word and many a
handshake from men who told me I had induced them to enlist.

"I'm glad I heard you, Harry," man after man said to me. "You showed
me what I should be doing and I've been easier in my mind ever since
I put on the khaki!"

I knew they'd n