a low and gentle tone, "need I remind you that
it is at present almost seven P. M. and that the Stars and Stripes,
although supposed to be lowered at sunset, are still hanging out this
window?"

"Oh, that's it, is it?" he said in a releived tone. "You're nothing if
you're not thorough, Bab! Well, as they have hung an hour and fifteen
minutes to long as it is, I guess the Country won't go to the dogs if
you shut that window until I get a shirt on. Go away and send Williarm
up in ten minutes."

"Father," I demanded, intencely, "do you consider yourself a Patriot?"

"Well," he said, "I'm not the shouting tipe, but I guess I'll be around
if I'm needed. Unless I die of the chill I'm getting just now, owing to
one shouting Patriot in the Familey."

"Is this your Country or William's?" I insisted, in an inflexable voice.

"Oh, come now," he said, "we can divide it, William and I. There's
enough for both. I'm not selfish."

It is always thus in my Familey. They joke about the most serious
things, and then get terrably serious about nothing at all, such as
overshoes on wet days, or not passing in French grammer, or having a
friend of the Other Sex, etcetera.

"There are to many houses in this country, father," I said, folding my
arms, "where the Patriotism of the Inhabatants is shown by having a paid
employee hang out and take in the Emblem between Cocktails and salid, so
to speak."

"Oh damm!" said my father, in a feirce voice. "Here, get away and let me
take it in. And as I'm in my undershirt I only hope the neighbors aren't
looking out."

He then sneazed twice and drew in the Emblem, while I stood at the
Salute. How far, how very far from the Plattsburg Manual, which decrees
that our flag be lowered to the inspiring music of the Star-Spangled
Banner, or to the bugel call, "To the Colors."

Such, indeed, is life.

LATER: Carter Brooks dropped in this evening. I was very cold to him and
said:

"Please pardon me if I do not talk much, as I am in low spirits."

"Low spirits on a holaday!" he exclaimed. "Well, we'll have to fix that.
How about a motor Picnic?"

It is always like that in our house. They regard a Party or a Picnic as
a cure for everything, even a heartache, or being worried about Spies,
etcetera.

"No, thank you," I said. "I am worried about those of my friends who
have enlisted." I then gave him a scornful glance and left the room. He
said "Bab!" in a strange voice and I heard him coming afte