e Carver Hospital on receipt of the first cry for help and
hurried to her home to complete her preparations to leave for the front.

Her father was at breakfast alone.

She called her greeting from the hall, rushed to her room, packed a bag,
and quickly came down.

She slipped her arm around his neck, bent and kissed him good-bye. He
held her a moment:

"You must leave so early, dear?"

"I must catch the first bout for Aquia. The news from the front is
hideous. The force there is utterly inadequate. They've asked for every
nurse that can be spared for a week. The wounded lay on the ground for
three days and nights, and hundreds of them can't be moved to
Washington. The woods took fire dozens of times and many of the poor
boys were terribly burned. The suffering, they say, is indescribable."

The old man suddenly rose, with a fierce light flashing in his eyes:

"Oh, the miserable blunderer in the White House--this war has been one
grim and awful succession of his mistakes!"

Betty placed her hand on his arm in tender protest:

"Father, dear, how can you be so unreasonable--so insanely unjust? Your
hatred of the President is a positive mania----"

"I'm not alone in my affliction, child; Arnold is his only friend in
Congress to-day----"

"Then it's a shame--a disgrace to the Nation. Every disaster is laid at
his door. In his big heart he is carrying the burden of millions--their
suffering, their sorrows, their despair. You blamed him at first for
trifling with the war. Now you blame him for the bloody results when the
army really fights. You ask for an effective campaign and when you get
these tragic battles you heap on his head greater curses. It isn't
right. It isn't fair. I can't understand how a man with your deep sense
of justice can be so cruelly inconsistent----"

The Senator shook his grey head in protest:

"There! there! dear--we won't discuss it. You're a woman and you can't
understand my point of view. We'll just agree to disagree. You like the
man in the White House. God knows he's lonely--I shouldn't begrudge him
that little consolation. His whole attitude in this war is loathsome to
me. To him the Southerners are erring brethren to be brought back as
prodigal sons in the end. To me they are criminal outlaws to be hanged
and quartered--their property confiscated, the foundations of their
society destroyed, and every trace of their States blotted from the
map----"

"Father!"

"Until we unders