tiptoe and presented his monthly bill solemnly.

So Harvey stopped whistling, rang the bell apologetically, and--faced a
new and vivid Sara Lee, flushed and with shining eyes, but woefully
frightened.

She told him almost at once. He had only reached the dining room of
the Leete house, which he was explaining had a white wainscoting when
she interrupted him. The ladies of the Methodist Church were going to
collect a certain amount each month to support a soup kitchen as near
the Front as possible.

"Good work!" said Harvey heartily. "I suppose they do get hungry, poor
devils. Now about the dining room--"

"Harvey dear," Sara Lee broke in, "I've not finished. I--I'm going
over to run it."

"You are not!"

"But I am! It's all arranged. It's my plan. They've all wanted to do
something besides giving clothes. They send barrels, and they never hear
from them again, and it's hard to keep interested. But with me there,
writing home and telling them, 'To-day we served soup to this man, and
that man, perhaps wounded.' And--and that sort of thing--don't you see
how interested every one will be? Mrs. Gregory has promised twenty-five
dollars a month, and--"

"You're not going," said Harvey in a flat tone. "That's all. Don't
talk to me about it."

Sara Lee flushed deeper and started again, but rather hopelessly.
There was no converting a man who would not argue or reason, who based
everything on flat refusal.

"But somebody must go," she said with a tightening of her voice.
"Here's Mabel Andrews' letter. Read it and you will understand."

"I don't want to read it."

Nevertheless he took it and read it. He read slowly. He did nothing
quickly except assert his masculine domination. He had all the faults
of his virtues; he was as slow as he was sure, as unimaginative as he
was faithful.

He read it and gave it back to her.

"I don't think you mean it," he said. "I give you credit for too much
sense. Maybe some one is needed over there. I guess things are pretty
bad. But why should you make it your affair? There are about a million
women in this country that haven't got anything else to do. Let them go."

"Some of them will. But they're afraid, mostly."

"Afraid! My God, I should think they would be afraid! And you're asking
me to let you go into danger, to put off our wedding while you wander
about over there with a million men and no women and--"

"You're wrong, Harvey dear," said Sara Lee in a low voice. "I am