tiently whatever might come to him at the end of
his journey.

So it was in good health and spirits that he landed at Havre, came up
to Rouen, and made his way to the hospital.

And for once in her life his daughter did not chide him. Instinctively
she felt the power of the great tenderness and yearning in his breast
that had impelled him to come, and, so far as any word of disapproval
was concerned, she was silent.

He talked much about Pen. He asked what they had learned concerning
his bravery in battle, the manner in which he had received his wounds,
the nature of his long illness, and the probability of his continued
convalescence.

"I hope," said Pen's mother, "that I shall be able to take him back
to Lowbridge next month."

The old man looked up in surprise and alarm.

"To Lowbridge?" he said, and added: "Not to Lowbridge, Sarah Butler.
My grandson will return to Bannerhall, the home of his ancestors."

"Colonel Butler, my son's home is with me."

"And your home," replied the colonel, "is with me. My son's widow must
no longer live under any other roof than mine. The day of estrangement
has fully passed. You will find welcome and affection, and, I hope, an
abundance of happiness at Bannerhall."

She did not answer him; she could not. Nor did he demand an answer. He
seemed to take it for granted that his wish in the matter would be
complied with, and his will obeyed. But it was not until his daughter
Millicent, by much argument and persuasion, through many days, had
convinced her that her place was with them, that her son's welfare and
his grandfather's length of days depended on both mother and son
complying with Colonel Butler's wish and demand, that she consented
to blot out the past and to go to live at Bannerhall.

It was on the second day of April, 1917, that the President of the
United States read his world famous message to Congress, asking that
body to "declare the recent course of the Imperial German Government
to be in fact nothing less than war against the Government and people
of the United States" and to "employ all of its resources to bring the
Government of Germany to terms and to end the war."

And it was on the third day of April that Colonel Richard Butler,
walking up the long aisle of the war hospital near Rouen in the late
afternoon, smiled and nodded to right and left and said:

"At last we are with you; we are with you. America has answered the
call of her conscience, she will