way up the driveway. Her hands were
still pinioned at her sides. As she passed the house in front of the
barn she could see by the street light that it was empty. A grand scheme
it would have been indeed, if it had worked, hiding the statue in the
unused barn where it would not have been discovered for weeks, or
possibly months. Of course, Sahwah readily admitted, Joe did not know
that she was in the statue; his object had merely been to spoil the
play. And a very effective method he had taken, too, for the play
without the statue of Joan of Arc would have been nothing.

Sahwah stood still on the street and tried to get her bearings. She was
in an unfamiliar neighborhood. She walked up the street. Coming toward
her was a man. Sahwah breathed a sigh of relief. Without a doubt he
would see the trouble she was in and free her. Now Sahwah did not know
it, but in the scramble with the dog the button had been pushed which
worked the halo. The neighborhood she was in was largely inhabited by
foreigners, and the man coming toward her was a Hungarian who had not
been long in this country. Taking his way homeward with never a thought
in his mind but his dinner, he suddenly looked up to see the gigantic
figure of a woman bearing down on him, brandishing a gleaming sword and
with a dim halo playing around her head. For an instant he stood rooted
to the spot, and then with a wild yell he ran across the street, darted
between two houses and disappeared over the back fence. Then began a
series of encounters which threw Sahwah into hysterics twenty years
later when she happened to remember them. Intent only on her own
liberation she was at the time unconscious of the terrifying figure she
presented, and hastened along at the top of her speed. Everywhere the
people fled before her in the extremity of terror. On all sides she
could hear shrieks of "War!" "War!" "It is a sign of war!"

In one street through which she passed lived a simple Slovak priest. He
was sorely torn over the sad conflict raging in Europe and was undecided
whether he should preach a sermon advocating peace at all costs or
preparation for fighting. He debated the question back and forth in his
mind, and, unable to come to any decision in the narrow confines of his
little house, walked up and down on the cold porch seeking for light in
the matter. "Oh, for a sign from heaven," he sighed, "such as came to
the saints of old to solve their troublesome questions!" Scarcely