sounded his mournful note. It was a ghostly call, and
there was the patter of little feet on the porch as the old cat played
with her kittens in the warm dark. But Madge was not afraid. She had a
sense of great content as she lay there and thought of the things she
had said to Major Prime. It was not often that she revealed herself, and
when she did it was still rarer to meet understanding. But he had
understood. She was sure of that, and she would see him soon. He had
promised. And she would not have to go back to Oscar and Flora until she
was ready. Flora was better, but still very weak. It would be much
wiser, the doctor had said, if she saw no one but her nurses for several
days.

II

Truxton Beaufort rode over to King's Crest the next morning, and sat on
the steps of the Schoolhouse. Randy and Major Prime were having
breakfast out-of-doors. It was ten o'clock, but they were apparently
taking their ease.

"I thought you had to work," Truxton said to Randy.

"I sold a car yesterday----"

"And to-day you are playing around like a plutocrat. I wish I could sell
cars. I wish I could do _anything_. Look here, you two. I wonder if you
feel as I do."

"About what?"

"Coming back. I came home expecting a pedestal--and I give you my word
nobody seems to think much of me except my family. And they aren't
worshipful--exactly. They can't be. How can they rave over my one
decoration when that young nigger John has two, and deserved them, and
when the butcher and baker and candlestick-maker are my ranking
officers? War used to be a gentleman's game. But it isn't any more."

"We've got to carve our own pedestals," said the Major. "We are gods of
yesterday. The world won't stop to praise us. We did our duty, and we
would do it again. But our laurel wreaths are doffed. Our swords are
beaten into plowshares. Peace is upon us. If we want pedestals, we've
got to carve them."

Truxton argued that it wasn't quite fair. The Major agreed that it might
not seem so, but the thing had been so vast, and there were so many men
involved, so many heroes.

"Every little family has a hero of its own," Truxton supplemented. "Mary
thinks none of the others did _anything_--I won the _whole_ war. That's
where I have it over you two," he grinned.

"It is a thing," said the Major, cheerfully, "which can be remedied."

"It can," Truxton told him; "which reminds me that our young John is
going to marry Flippins' Daisy, and our household i