had thanked the Lord soberly, feeling meantime a bit bewildered as
to the workings of His Providence. Most of them were going home to
somewhat modified feasts. Many of them were having a soldier or two to
dine with them. And presently these soldiers whom they feasted would
be crossing the sea to that dread land of death and desolation.
Should they thank the Lord for that?
Some of the clergymen, craving light, had sought it in the Old
Testament. But one, more inspired than the rest, had found it in the
New.
"And there was war in Heaven; Michael and his angels fought against the
dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels. And prevailed
not--neither was their place found any more in Heaven."
Those who came from that church spoke of a Holy War, and were thankful
that there were men in America going forth to fight the Dragon.
The two soldiers who were to dine at Dr. McKenzie's were plain young
fellows from an upper county in Maryland. They were waiting somewhat
awkwardly in the drawing-room when Jean arrived. She took them at once
to the less formal library, left Derry with them and went upstairs to
dress.
As she came into the fresh and frilly room so identified with her child
life and her girl life, she stopped on the threshold.
Oh, little room, little room, the child that once lived here will never
come again!
She knelt beside the bed, her face buried in her hands. No words came,
but in her heart she was saying, "My beloved is mine--and I am his--"
When she went down, Dr. McKenzie was there, and Emily, and the two
young soldiers had lost their awkwardness. When they found out
afterwards that the young Drake who talked to them so simply and
unaffectedly was DeRhymer Drake, the multi-millionaire, they refused to
believe it. "He was a mighty nice chap. He didn't put on a bit of
side, and the dinner was some feast."
And how could they know that Derry was envying them their cavalry
yellow and their olive drab?
As for Jean, throughout the afternoon they gazed upon her as upon an
enchanting vision. When they told her "Good-bye" it was the boldest
who asked, with a flush on his hard cheek, if he might have a bit of
the heather which she wore. "I am Scotch myself, and my mother was,
and it would seem a sort of mascot."
If she hesitated for a moment it was only Derry who noticed it. And he
helped her out. "It will be a proud day for the heather."
So she gave away a part of his gift, and
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