half full; she looked it over almost
daily, and kept it as, at present, her greatest treasure.

She sent parcels regularly to Percy. Campaigning had not destroyed his
boyish love for sweetstuff, and he welcomed cakes, toffee and chocolate.
"I share it with the other chaps," he wrote, "and they give you a vote
of thanks every time. You wouldn't believe what larks we have in our
dug-out!"

Percy's letters were in his old gay style, but every now and then Winona
noticed a more serious vein running through them. He had sad news to
tell sometimes. Two of his special chums were killed in action, the
young doctor was shot while attending to the wounded, and their chaplain
had been injured. "We never know when our turn will come," he finished,
and Winona shivered as she kissed the letter and put it away.

She looked up sometimes at the calm clear globe of the full moon and
thought how it was shining down alike on the far-away trenches of France
and the great Minster towers of Seaton. How many battles had it seen in
the earth's history, and how many still forms lying stiff and straight
under its pale beams? Men fought and died, and the moon and the stars
passed on their way, uncaring--but God cared, and at the back of it all
His Hand was guiding the world, and even from seeming chaos would bring
good out of evil at His own time. "God bless Percy, and bring him safe
home!" prayed Winona passionately, but she felt in her heart of hearts
that if the Great Captain called him, she could bend her head in the
knowledge that He knew best.

With the hot July weather Aunt Harriet's health flagged. She seemed
suddenly to have grown much older. The erect figure stooped a little,
her high color had faded and her voice lost some of its energy and
determination. She was not able to fulfill all her former public duties,
and she fretted greatly at the enforced inaction. She was one of those
characters who would rather wear out than rust out, and it required the
utmost firmness on the part of her doctor to persuade her from
over-exerting herself. Instead of being in a continual whirl of creche
committee meetings, workhouse inspections, and creche management, she
now spent long quiet afternoons in the shaded drawing-room learning that
(to her) hardest of all lessons, how to rest! Winona, busy with the last
exciting weeks of the school term, was too occupied to give much thought
to her aunt, but could not help remarking that the latter's spirits