incongruous on a body that was so visibly dying. It gave a pleasure
of sunlight on what was doomed. Still she went on whistling through her
broken body, and with each breath she gave a low murmur of pain.

"Sister," said Hilda, to one of the women, "what is it with the child?
She is very ill?"

"She is dying," said the nurse. "Her back is slashed open to the bone
with bayonets. She was placed in front of the troops, and they cut her,
when she fell in fright."

"And her breathing?" asked Hilda. "I can hear her with each breath."

"Yes, it is hard with her. Her body is torn, and the breath is loud as
it comes. It will soon be over. She will not suffer long."

Hilda and her companion stepped out into the open air, and climbed into
the waiting motor. The banker was crying and swearing softly to himself.

"The little children who have died, what becomes of them?" said Hilda.
"Will they have a chance to play somewhere? And the children still in
pain, here and everywhere in Belgium--will it be made up to them? Will a
million of indemnity give them back their playtime? That little girl
whom you touched--"

"The hair," he said, "did you see her hair? The same color as yours."

"I know," said Hilda, "I saw myself in her place. I feel that I could go
out and kill."

"It was the hair," repeated the banker. "My little daughter's hair is
the color of yours. That was why I let you say those things to me that
evening in London. I could not sleep that night for thinking of all you
said. And when I looked across the room just now, I thought it was my
daughter lying there. For a moment, I thought I saw my daughter."

THE BONFIRE

We were prisoners, together--twenty-seven peasants and three
of us that had been too curious of the enemy's camp. We were
huddled in the dirt of a field, with four sentries over us,
and three thousand soldiers round about us. Just across the
country road, twenty-six little yellow-brick houses were
blazing, the homes of the peasants of Melle. Each house was
a separate torch, for they had been carefully primed with
oil. The light of them, and almost the heat, was on our
faces. It was a clear, warm evening. The fires of the
cottages burned high. A full moon rose blood-red on the
horizon, climbed to the dome and went across the sky to the
south-west. Two dogs, chained in the yard of a burning
house, howled all night. The peasant lying next u