ood. Carstairs
discovered a wine cellar, and he returned with a bottle of champagne.

"It's an old and famous vintage," he said, "and there'll be no harm in
taking one."

"Here's a furnace in the cook-room," said John, "and billets of wood.
Suppose we make a fire, and dry ourselves thoroughly while we eat and
drink. It's too far down for the reflections of the flames to be seen
outside."

The others promptly agreed with him. All wanted to get rid of the wet
chill which struck so deeply into their bodies. A search disclosed
matches, and John built the fire which was soon burning redly in the
furnace. What a glorious warmth it threw out! It created them anew, and
they realized that light and heat were the great vital elements of the
world.

They drew a table before the fire, and put upon it the food and the
bottle of champagne.

"We've been made welcome here after all," said John. "The souls of the
absent owners have provided these things for us."

"That's dreamy sort of talk, John," said Wharton.

"Maybe, but I'll go further and say that the house itself invited us to
come in. I've an idea that a house doesn't like to be abandoned and
lonely. It prefers to be filled with people and to hear the sounds of
voices and laughter. These old European houses which have sheltered
generation after generation must be the happiest houses of all. I'd like
to live in a house like this and I'd like for a house like this to like
me. It would help life a lot for a house and its occupant to be
satisfied with each other."

"We feel that way in England about our old country houses," said
Carstairs, "and you'll come to it, too, in America, after a while."

"No doubt, but will you have a little more of this champagne? Only a
half glass. I don't believe the owner, who must be a fine French
gentleman, would ever begrudge it to us."

"Just a little. We're rather young for champagne, we three, but we've
been doing men's work, and we've been through men's dangers. I wonder
what they're doing along the Strand, tonight, John!"

"The same that they've been doing every night for the last hundred
years. But you listen to me, Carstairs, old England will have to wake
up. This war can't be won by dilettantes."

"Oh, she'll wake up. Don't you worry. It's not worth while to get
excited."

"To take a serious view of a serious situation is not to grow excited.
You Britishers often make me tired. To pretend indifference in the face
of everythi