No--by cracky, Beth--the Germans triumph again; they've captured
Maubeuge. What do you think of that?"

Patsy gave a little laugh.

"Not knowing where Maubeuge is," she remarked, "my only thought is that
something is wrong with the London press bureau. Perhaps the cables got
crossed--or short circuited or something. They don't usually allow the
Germans to win two days in succession."

"Don't interrupt, please," said Beth, earnestly. "This is too important
a matter to be treated lightly. Read us the article, Uncle. I was afraid
Maubeuge would be taken."

Patsy accepted her cousin's rebuke with her accustomed good nature.
Indeed, she listened as intently as Beth to the thrilling account of the
destruction of Maubeuge, and her blue eyes became quite as serious as
the brown ones of her cousin when the tale of dead and wounded was
recounted.

"Isn't it dreadful!" cried Beth, clasping her hands together
impulsively.

"Yes," nodded her uncle, "the horror of it destroys the interest we
naturally feel in any manly struggle for supremacy."

"This great war is no manly struggle," observed Patsy with a toss of her
head. "It is merely wholesale murder by a band of selfish diplomats."

"Tut-tut!" warned Mr. Merrick; "we Americans are supposed to be neutral,
my dear. We must not criticize."

"That does not prevent our sympathizing with the innocent sufferers,
however," said Beth quietly. "My heart goes out, Uncle, to those poor
victims of the war's cruelty, the wounded and dying. I wish I could do
something to help them!"

Uncle John moved uneasily in his chair. Then he laid down his paper and
applied himself to his breakfast. But his usual merry expression had
faded into one of thoughtfulness.

"The wounded haunt me by day and night," went on Beth. "There are
thousands upon thousands of them, left to suffer terrible pain--perhaps
to die--on the spot where they fell, and each one is dear to some poor
woman who is ignorant of her loved one's fate and can do nothing but
moan and pray at home."

"That's the hard part of it," said Patsy, her cousin. "I think the
mothers and wives and sweethearts are as much to be pitied as the fallen
soldiers. The men _know_ what has happened, but the women don't. It
isn't so bad when they're killed outright; the family gets a medal to
indicate that their hero has died for his country. But the wounded are
lost sight of and must suffer in silence, with no loving hands to soothe
their agony