e always been good to me."

"And I want you to come and see me before you go," said Jane as she gave
him her hand. "Now will you take us out through the crowd? We must get
along."

"Certainly, Miss Brown. Just come with me." With a fine, soldierly tread
the young Jew led them through the crowd and put them on their way. He
did not shake hands with them as he said good-bye, but gave them instead
a military salute, of which he was apparently distinctly proud.

"Tell me, Jane," said Ethel, as they set off down the street, "am I
awake? Is that little Kellerman, the greasy little Jew whom we used to
think such a beast?"

"Isn't he splendid?" said Jane. "Poor little Kellerman! You know, Ethel,
he had not one girl friend in college? I am sorry now we were not better
to him."

The streets were full of people walking hurriedly or gathered here and
there in groups, all with grave, solemn faces. In front of The Times
office a huge concourse stood before the bulletin boards reading
the latest despatches. These were ominous enough: "The Germans Still
Battering Liege Forts--Kaiser's Army Nearing Brussels--Four Millions
of Men Marching on France--Russia Hastening Her Mobilisation--Kitchener
Calls for One Hundred Thousand Men--Canada Will Send Expeditionary Force
of Twenty-five Thousand Men--Camp at Valcartier Nearly Ready--Parliament
Assembles Thursday." Men read the bulletins and talked quietly to each
other. They had not yet reached clearness in their thinking as to how
this dread thing had fallen upon their country so far from the storm
centre, so remote in all vital relations. There was no cheering--the
cheering days came later--no ebullient emotion, but the tightening of
lip and jaw in their stern, set faces was a sufficient index of the
tensity of feeling. Canadians were thinking things out, thinking keenly
and swiftly, for in the atmosphere and actuality of war mental processes
are carried on at high pressure.

As the girls stood at the corner of Portage Avenue and Main waiting for
a crossing, an auto held up in the traffic drew close to their side.

"Hello, Ethel! Won't you get in?" said a voice at their ear.

"Hello, Lloyd! Hello, Helen!" cried Ethel. "We will, most certainly. Are
you joying, or what?"

"Both," said Lloyd Rushbrooke, who was at the wheel. "Helen wanted to
see the soldiers. She is interested in the Ninetieth but he wasn't there
and I am just taking her about."

"We saw the Ninetieth and the Kilties