sting in every five minutes and attacking them. What's he
going to say when I tell him, later on, that his father and myself have
had all the war we want, and have decided there shall be no more? The
old folks have had their fun. Why shouldn't I have mine? That will be
his argument."

"You can't do it," she concluded, "unless you are prepared to keep half
the world's literature away from the children, scrap half your music,
edit your museums and your picture galleries; bowdlerize your Old
Testament and rewrite your histories. And then you'll have to be careful
for twenty-four hours a day that they never see a dog-fight."

Madge still held to her hope. God would make a wind of reason to pass
over the earth. He would not smite again his people.

"I wish poor dear Sam could have been kept out of it," said Flossie. She
wiped her eyes and finished her tea.

Joan had arranged to leave on the Monday. She ran down to see Mary
Stopperton on the Saturday afternoon. Mr. Stopperton had died the year
before, and Mary had been a little hurt, divining insincerity in the
condolences offered to her by most of her friends.

"You didn't know him, dear," she had said to Joan. "All his faults were
on the outside."

She did not want to talk about the war.

"Perhaps it's wrong of me," she said. "But it makes me so sad. And I
can do nothing."

She had been busy at her machine when Joan had entered; and a pile of
delicate white work lay folded on a chair beside her.

"What are you making?" asked Joan.

The little withered face lighted up. "Guess," she said, as she unfolded
and displayed a tiny garment.

"I so love making them," she said. "I say to myself, 'It will all come
right. God will send more and more of His Christ babies; till at last
there will be thousands and thousands of them everywhere; and their love
will change the world!'"

Her bright eyes had caught sight of the ring upon Joan's hand. She
touched it with her little fragile fingers.

"You will let me make one for you, dearie, won't you?" she said. "I feel
sure it will be a little Christ baby."

Arthur was still away when she arrived home. He had gone to Norway on
business. Her father was afraid he would find it difficult to get back.
Telegraphic communication had been stopped, and they had had no news of
him. Her father was worried. A big Government contract had come in,
while many of his best men had left to enlist.

"I've fixed you up al