t sick."

"My seven disciples--seven!" exclaimed Marta as she counted them. "And
you need not sit on the regular seats, but around me on the platform. It
will be more intimate."

"That's grand!" came in chorus. They did not bother, about chairs, but
seated themselves on the floor around Marta's skirts.

"My, Miss Galland, but your eyes are bright!"

"And your cheeks are all red!"

"With little spots in the centre!"

"You're very wonderful, Miss Galland!"

The church clock boomed out its deliberate strokes through ten, the hour
set for the lesson, and all counted them--one--two--three. Marta was
thinking what a dismal little effort theirs was, and yet she was very
happy, tremblingly happy in her distraction and excitement, that they
had not waited for her at the door of the chapel in vain.

She announced that there would be no talk this morning; they would only
say their oath. Repeating in concert the pledge to the boys and girls of
other lands, the childish voices peculiarly sweet and harmonious in
contrast to the raucous and uneven sounds of foreboding from the street,
they came in due course to the words of the concession that the oath
made to militancy.

"If an enemy tries to take my land--"

"Children--I--" Marta interrupted with a sense of wonder and shock. They
paused and looked at her questioningly. "I had almost forgotten that
part!" she breathed confusedly.

"That's the part that makes all we're doing against the Grays right!"
put in Jacky Werther promptly.

"As I wrote it for you! 'I shall appeal to his sense of justice and
reason with him--'"

Jaws dropped and eyes bulged, for above the sounds of the street rose
from the distance the unmistakable crackling of rifle-fire which, as
they listened, spread and increased in volume.

"Go on--on to the end of the oath! It will take only a moment," said
Marta resolutely. "It isn't much, but it's the best we can do!"

XVIII

THE BAPTISM OF FIRE

After the morning sun commenced to tickle the back of his neck, Eugene
Aronson, the giant of the 128th of the Grays, stretched his limbs as
healthily as a cub bear.

"No war yet!" he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, we'd have called you if there were!" said the manufacturer's son,
trying to make a joke, which was hard work with his clothes dew-soaked
after a sleepless night in the open.

"Wouldn't want you to miss it after coming so far," added the laborer's
son, aiming to show that he, too,