, but your mind sees them, and their cold
little hands, and their sad little faces--"

"Yes." He considered that for a while, then swept on to the things
over which his childish brain puzzled.

"Mother, if the Germans get to Paris what will happen?"

He saw the horror in her face.

"Do you hate the Germans, Mother?"

"My darling, don't ask me."

After he had gone downstairs, Margaret got out her prayer-book, and
read the prayers for the day.

"Oh, merciful God, who hast made all men and hatest nothing that thou
hast made, nor desirest the death of a sinner, but rather that he
should be converted and live, have mercy on all Jews, Turks, infidels
and heretics, and take from them all ignorance, hardness of heart, and
contempt of Thy word, and so fetch them home, blessed Lord, to Thy
flock, that they may be saved--"

She shut the book. No, she could not go on. She did not love her
enemies. She was not in the least sure that she wanted the Germans to
be saved!

On Easter morning, however, Teddy was instructed to pray for his
enemies. "We mustn't have hate in our hearts."

"Why mustn't we, Mother?"

"Well, Father wouldn't want it. We hate the evil they do, but we must
pray that they will be shown their wickedness and repent."

"If they re-pyent will they stop fighting?"

"My dearest, yes."

"How would they stop?"

Jean, who was ready for church and waiting, warned, "You'd better not
try to give an answer to that, Margaret, there isn't any."

Teddy ignored her. "How would they stop, Mother?"

"Well, they'd just stop, dear--"

"Would they say they were sorry?"

_Would William of Prussia ever be sorry_?

"Can God stop it, Mother?"

Margaret wrenched her mind away from the picture which his words had
painted for her, the Kaiser on his knees! _Miserere mei, Deus_--

With quick breath, "Yes, dear."

"Then why doesn't He stop it, Mother?"

_Why? Why? Why? Older voices were asking that question in agony_.

"He will do it in His own good time, dearest. Perhaps the world has a
lesson to learn."

With Teddy walking ahead with nurse, Jean proclaimed to Margaret, "I
shan't pray for them."

"I know how you feel."

"Shall you?"

"Yes," desperately, "I must."

"Why must you?"

"Because of--Win," Margaret said simply. In her widow's black, with
her veil giving her height and dignity, she had never been more
beautiful. "Because of Win, I must. There are wives in Germany who
suffer as I