state that permitted him to grow old, said the same
thing. But even he was killed at last, since there is nothing so
hateful, so much to be feared, as a wise and gentle life."

Hertha's brow clouded, and dropping his irony the Major went on gently:

"Before he died, however, this old man, in talking with his friend,
pronounced his golden rule: 'We should never repay wrong with wrong nor
do harm to any man no matter how much we may have suffered from him.'
But mark Socrates' wisdom. 'I know,' he added, 'few men hold or ever
will hold this opinion.' That was over two thousand years ago, my dear,
and you see the meek have not inherited the earth. They still drink the
cup of hemlock or are nailed upon the cross."

"Don't!" Kathleen cried. She was shaken by his speech and the tears were
on her cheeks. "Major, dear, I'm not meek. I'm fighting with my comrades
for the new world. What is there for me?"

"Defeat!" the old man answered gravely, shaking his head. "Defeat. And
yet, there will be the joy of battle, and who knows but that the
struggle is better than any possible heaven of achievement? But for your
friend," and his face lightened as he looked at Hertha's appealing
beauty, "for her there is the joy of youth." He rose and addressed
himself directly to Hertha. "My child," he said, "don't let them make
you picket. Get all the joy you can out of life. Dance to beautiful
music. The springtime is coming, play with your mates. Grasp whatever of
happiness you can, and, above all, keep out of the conflict. Don't
forget, keep out of the conflict."

With a nod of good-by he picked up his hat and coat and left them.

"Kitty," William Applebaum said as he bade her good-night, "don't
believe that terrible man."

He was standing in the hall of the flat. Hertha had gone to her room and
quite evidently Kathleen was impatient to have him leave.

"Oh, shut up," was her answer.

"But I mean it," Applebaum went on earnestly. "What does he know about
life? Just because he's traveled, why should you think he tells the
truth? He's irreligious and he's unwholesome. I hate that kind of thing,
it's the talk of the devil."

Then, to Kathleen's utter amazement, he kissed her. He had never been so
daring before and, overcome by his temerity, he rushed down the stairs.
But before she had closed the door he called back, "Don't believe
anything he said except about the joy of youth." And then the outer door
slammed.

"Good heavens," cried