ld not be certain this man was his son.
He returned to Port Agnew more troubled and distressed than ever.

Mrs. McKaye and the girls had made three flying visits down to Port
Agnew during the winter and The Laird had spent his week-ends in
Seattle twice; otherwise, save for the servants, he was quite alone at
The Dreamerie and this did not add to his happiness. Gradually the
continued and inexplicable absence of Donald at Sunday service became
an obsession with him; he could think of nothing else in his spare
moments and even at times when it was imperative he should give all of
his attention to important business matters, this eternal, damnable
query continued to confront him. It went to bed with him and got up
with him and under its steady relentless attrition he began to lose
the look of robust health that set him off so well among men of his
own age. His eyes took on a worried, restless gleam; he was irritable
and in the mornings he frequently wore to the office the haggard
appearance that speaks so accusingly of a sleepless night. He lost his
appetite and in consequence he lost weight. Andrew Daney was greatly
concerned about him, and one day, apropos of nothing, he demanded a
bill of particulars.

"Oh, I daresay I'm getting old, Andrew," The Laird replied evasively.

"Worrying about the boy?"

It was a straight shot and old Hector was too inexpressibly weary to
attempt to dodge it. He nodded sadly.

"Well, let us hope he'll come through all right, sir."

"Is he ill? What's wrong with him, Andrew? Man, I've been eating my
heart out for months, wondering what it is, but you know the fix I'm
in. I don't like to ask and not a soul in Port Agnew will discuss him
with me."

"Why, there's nothing wrong with him that I'm aware of, sir. I spoke
to Nan after services last Sunday and she read me a portion of his
last letter. He was quite well at that time."

"W-wh-where is he, Andrew?"

"Somewhere in France. He's not allowed to tell."

"France? Good God, Andrew, not _France_!"

"Why not, may I ask? Of course he's in France. He enlisted as a
private shortly after war was declared. Dirty Dan quit his job and
went with him. They went over with the Fifth Marines. Do you mean to
tell me this is news to you?" he added, frankly amazed.

"I do," old Hector mumbled brokenly. "Oh, Andrew man, this is
terrible, terrible. I canna stand it, man." He sat down and covered
his face with his trembling old hands.

"Why can't