anything else."

"Then why don't you?"

"Who'd help Father Bob through the farm stunts? Young Bob's gone, and
Pete and Sidney. They were always here for the summer work. Henry's a
fine lad, but a boy still. Tom's nothing but a boy, though he does
his bit. As for the Women's Land Army, it's got up into these parts,
but not in force. Father Bob can't hire help: it's not to be had.
That's why Mother Jess and the girls are going in so for farm work.
They never did it before this year, except in sport. We have more land
under cultivation this summer than ever before, and fewer hands to
harvest it with. But Mother and the girls sha'n't have to work
harder than they're doing now, if I can help it. Could I go off and
leave them, after all they've done for me? But that's not it,
either--gratitude. They're mine, Father Bob and Mother Jess are, and
the rest; they're my folks. You're not exactly grateful to your own
folks, you know. They belong to you. And you don't leave what belongs
to you in the lurch."

"No," said Elliott. With awakened eyes she was watching Bruce. No boy
had ever talked of such things to her before. "So you're not going?"

"Not of my own will. Of course, if the war lasts and I'm drafted, or
the help problem lightens up, it will be different. Pete's gone. It
was Pete's right to go. He's the elder."

"But you _are_ choosing," Elliott cried earnestly. "Don't you see?
You're choosing to stay at home and--" words came swiftly into her
memory--"'fight it out on these lines all summer.'"

Bruce's smile showed that he recognized her quotation, but he shook
his head. "Choosing? I haven't any choice--except being decent about
it. Don't _you_ see I can't go? I can only try to keep from thinking
about not going."

"You being you," said the girl, and she spoke as simply and soberly as
Bruce himself, though her own warmth surprised her, "I see you can't
go. But was that all you meant"--her voice grew ludicrously
disappointed--"by a person's having a choice only of how he will do a
thing? There's nothing to that but making the best of things!"

Bruce Fearing threw back his head and laughed heartily.

"You're the funniest girl I've ever seen."

"Then you can't have seen many. But _is_ there?"

"Perhaps not. Stupid, isn't it?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I'm afraid it is. And frightfully old. I was
hoping you were going to tell me something new and exciting."

The boy chuckled again. "Nothing so good as that. Besides