gh ammunition to draw on for many articles and letters,
and another book.

It has been a cruel time; and when I tell you how I worked to get it
over, and to be back with you, you will understand many things. The
most important of all will be how I love you. Only wait until I can
lay eyes on you, you will just take one look and know that it couldn't
be helped, that the delay was the work of others, that, all I wanted
was my Bessie and my Hope.

How heavy she will be, if she is anything like the picture of her on
the coverlet, she is a prize baby. And if she is anything like as
beautiful as in the baby carriage she is an angel straight from God. I
want to sit in the green chair and have you on one knee and her majesty
on the other, and have her climb over me, and pull my hair and bang my
nose, and in time to know how I love you both.

Goodnight, dear heart, I wish you had had yourself in the picture. I
have three in the summer time with you holding her and that is the way
I like to see you, that is the way I think of you. I love you, and I
love her for making you so happy, and I love her for her sake, and
because she is OURS: and has tied us tighter and closer even than it
has ever been. I love you so that I can't write about it, and I am
going to do nothing all spring but just sit around, and be in
everybody's way, watching you together.

How jealous I am of you, and homesick for you. Of course, she knows
"mamma" is YOU; and to look at you when they ask, "Where's mother?"
Who else could be her mother BUT THE DEAREST WOMAN IN THE WORLD, and
the one who loves her so, and in so wonderful a way. She is beautiful
beyond all things human I know. If ever a woman deserved a beautiful
daughter, YOU DO, for you are the best of mothers, and you know how "to
care greatly."

Good-night, my precious, dear one, and God keep you, as He will, and
help me to keep you both happy. What you give me you never will know.

RICHARD.

CHAPTER XX

THE LAST DAYS

After a short visit to London, Richard returned to New York in
February, 1916. During his absence his wife and Hope had occupied the
Scribner cottage at Mount Kisco, about two miles from Crossroads. Here
my brother finished his second book on the war, and wrote numerous
articles and letters urging the immediate necessity for preparedness in
this country. As to Richard's usefulness to his country at this time,
I quote in part from two appreciations written af