that his face could be seen. "What did she say?"

"Oh, she didn't say such an awful lot. She said one kind o' funny thing
though: she said she was sorry she couldn't quite control herself, but
if anybody had to see her cry she minded it less because it was an old
schoolmate. What struck me so kind o' funny about that is--why, it looks
as if she never knew the way I always hated her so."

"Yes," said Fred. "It wasn't flattering!"

"Well, sir, it _isn't_, kind of," Ramsey agreed, musingly. "It certainly
isn't when you look at it that way."

"What did you say when she said that?" Fred asked.

"Nothin'. I started to, but I sort of balked again. Well, we kept on
sitting there, and afterwhile she began to talk again and got kind of
excited about how no war could do anything or anybody any good, and all
war was wicked, no matter what it was about, and nothin' could be good
that was founded on fear and hate, and every war that ever was fought
was always founded on fear and hate. She said if the Germans wanted to
fight us we ought to go to meet them and tell them we wouldn't fight."

"What did you say?"

"Nothin'. I kind o' started to--but what's the use? She's got that
in her head. Besides, how are you goin' to argue about a thing with
a person that's crying about it? I tell you, Fred, I guess we got to
admit, after all, that ole girl certainly must have a lost of heart
about her, anyway. There may not be much _fun_ to her--though of course
I wouldn't know hardly any way to tell about that--but there couldn't be
hardly any doubt she's got a lot of feeling. Well, and then she went on
and said old men made wars, but didn't fight; they left the fighting to
the boys, and the suffering to the boy's mothers."

"Yes!" Fred exclaimed, and upon that he turned free of mirth for the
moment. "That's the woman of it, I guess. Send the old men to do the
fighting! For the matter of that, I guess my father'd about a thousand
times go himself than see me and my brothers go; but Father's so fat he
can't stoop! You got to be able to stoop to dig a trench, I guess! Well,
suppose we sent our old men up against those Dutchmen; the Dutchmen
would just kill the old men, and then come after the boys anyway, and
the boys wouldn't be ready, and they'd get killed, too; and then there
wouldn't be anybody but the Dutchmen left, and that'd be one fine world,
wouldn't it?"

"Yes," said Ramsey. "Course I thought of that."

"Did you tell her?"

"