p. She says she must see you."

"Why, what's up?"

"I think she has got a little fright," said his wife. "She has been
sobbing pitifully."

Mr. Murray found the little thing wide awake, her breath coming in the
deep sobs of exhaustion that follows tempestuous tears. "What's the
trouble, Sweetheart?"

"Oh, Daddy," cried the child, flinging herself upon him and bursting
anew into an ecstasy of weeping, "she--said--you would--have--to--go.
But--you won't--will you--Daddy?"

"Why, Isabel, what do you mean, dear? Go where?"

"To the--war--Daddy--they said--you would--have--to go--to the war."

"Who said?"

"Mabel. But--you--won't, will you, Daddy?"

"Mabel is a silly little goose," said Mr. Murray angrily. "No, never
fear, my Sweetheart, they won't expect me to go. I am far too old, you
know. Now, then, off you go to sleep. Do you know, the moon is shining
so bright outside that the little birds can't sleep. I just heard a
little bird as we were coming home cheeping away just like, you. I
believe she could not go to sleep."

But the child could not forget that terrible word which had rooted
itself in her heart. "But you will not go; promise me, Daddy, you will
not go."

"Why, Sweetheart, listen to me."

"But promise me, Daddy, promise me." The little thing clung to him in a
paroxysm of grief and terror.

"Listen, Isabel dear," said her father quietly. "You know I always tell
you the truth. Now listen to me. I promise you I won't go until you send
me yourself. Will that do?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said, and drew a long breath. "Now I am so tired,
Daddy." Even as she spoke the little form relaxed in his arms and in a
moment she was fast asleep.

As her father held her there the Spectre drew near again, but for the
moment his courage failed him and he dared not look.

CHAPTER XXII

THE TUCK OF DRUM

In the midst of her busy summer work in field and factory, on lake and
river, in mine and forest, on an August day of 1914, Canada was stricken
to the heart. Out of a blue summer sky a bolt as of death smote her,
dazed and dumb, gasping to God her horror and amaze. Without word of
warning, without thought of preparation, without sense of desert, War,
brutal, bloody, devilish War, was thrust into her life by that power
whose business in the world, whose confidence and glory, was war.

For some days, stunned by the unexpectedness of the blow, as much as by
its weight, Canada stood striving to regain her poi