e brandy."

"Give him some in the tea," suggested Gys, noting that Maurie swayed a
little. "Sit down, man, and be comfortable. That's it. I'd give a
million dollars for your nerve."

"Have you so much money?" asked Maurie.

"No."

"Then I cannot see that you lack nerve," said the little Belgian
thoughtfully. "I was watching you to-day, M'sieur Doctor, and I believe
what you lack is courage."

Gys stared so hard at him with the one good eye that even Maurie became
embarrassed and turned away his head. Sipping his tea and brandy he
presently resumed, in a casual tone:

"Never have I indulged in work of more interest than this. We go into
the thick of the fight, yet are we safe from harm. We do good to both
sides, because the men who do the fighting are not to blame for the war,
at all. The leaders of politics say to the generals: 'We have declared
war; go and fight.' The generals say to the soldiers: 'We are told to
fight, so come on. We do not know why, but it is our duty, because it is
our profession. So go and die, or get shot to pieces, or lose some arms
and legs, as it may happen.' The business of the soldiers is to obey;
they must back up the policies of their country, right or wrong. But do
those who send them into danger ever get hurt? Not to the naked eye."

"Why, you're quite a philosopher, Maurie," said Patsy.

"It is true," agreed the Belgian. "But philosophy is like courage--easy
to assume. We strut and talk big; we call the politicians sharks, the
soldiers fools; but does it do any good? The war will go on; the enemy
will destroy our homes, separate our families, take away our bread and
leave us to starve; but we have the privilege to philosophize, if we
like. For myself, I thank them for nothing!"

"I suppose you grieve continually for your wife," said Patsy.

"Not so much that, mamselle, but I know she is grieving for me," he
replied.

"As soon as we find time," continued the girl, "we intend to search for
your wife and children. I am sure we can find them for you."

Maurie moved uneasily in his chair.

"I beg you to take no trouble on my account," said he. "With the Red
Cross you have great work to accomplish. What is the despair of one poor
Walloon to you?"

"It is a great deal to us, Maurie," returned the girl, earnestly. "You
have been a friend in need; without you we could not have made our dash
to the front to-day. We shall try to repay you by finding your wife."

He was silent, bu