outh of America: Glory awaits you on the war-scarred
fields of France. Go forth! There is no barrier in the way. Remember
that when the ragged troops of Washington were locked in a death-grip
with the red-coated soldiers of King George, Lafayette, Rochambeau and
de Grasse came to our aid with six and twenty thousand of the bravest
sons of France. It is your turn now to spring to the aid of this
stricken land and prove that you are worthy descendants of the
grateful patriots of old.'"

Pen finished his reading and laid down the paper. There had been a
tremor in his voice at the end, and his eyes were wet.

"That's grandfather," he said, "all over. I knew he'd feel that way
about it. I had decided to go before I read that speech. Now I
couldn't stay at home if I tried. I'm his grandson yet, mother, and I
shall answer his call to arms."

After that he sat down quietly and unfolded to his mother all of his
plans. He told her that he had gone to Major Starbird and had confided
to him his desire to serve with the Allied armies. The old soldier,
veteran of many battles, had sympathized with his ambition and had
procured for him the necessary information concerning enlistment and
training in Canada. He was to go to New York and report to a certain
confidential agent there at an address which had been given him, where
he would receive the necessary credentials for enlistment in the new
American Legion then in process of formation. And Major Starbird had
said to him that when he returned, if at all, his place at the mill
would still be open to him and he would be welcomed back. He told it
all with a quiet enthusiasm that evidenced not only his fixed purpose,
but also the fact that his whole heart was in the adventure, and that
there would be no turning back.

And his mother gave her consent that he should go. What else was there
for her to do? Mothers have sent their sons to war from time
immemorial. It is thus that they suffer and bleed for their country.
And who shall say that their sacrifice is not as great in its way as
is the sacrifice of those who offer up their lives in battle? But that
night, through sleepless hours, when she thought of the loneliness
that would be hers, and the hazards and horrors that would be his, and
of how, after all, he was such a mere boy, to be petted and spoiled
and kept at home rather than to be sent out to meet the trials and
terrors of the most cruel war in history, her heart failed her, a