morable Fourth of August, when
England declared war on Germany, came and went unostentatiously.

People read the news a trifle breathlessly, reflected with a sigh of
contentment on the invincible British Navy, and with a little gust
of prideful triumph upon the Expeditionary force--ready to the last
burnished button of each man's tunic--and proceeded quietly with their
usual avocations.

Then came the soaring Bank Rate, and business men on holiday raced back
to London to contend with the new financial conditions and assure their
credit. That was all that happened--at first.

Few foresaw that the gaunt, grim Spectre of War had come to dwell in
their very midst, nor that soon he would pass from house to house,
palace and cottage alike, touching first this man, then that, on the
shoulder, with the single word "Come!" on his lips, until gradually the
nations, one by one, left their tasks of peace and rose and followed
him.

Monkshaven, in common with other seaside towns, witnessed the sudden
exodus of City men when the climbing Bank Rate sounded its alarm.
Beyond that, the war, for the moment, reacted very little on its daily
processes of life. There was no disorganization of amusements--tennis,
boating, and bathing went on much as usual, and clever people, proud
of their ability to add two and two together and make four of them,
announced that it was all explained now why certain young officers in
the neighbourhood had been hurriedly recalled a few days previously, and
their leave cancelled.

Then came the black news of that long, desperate retreat from Mons,
shaking the nation to its very soul, and in the wave of high courage and
endeavour that swept responsively across the country, the smaller things
began to fall into their little place.

To Sara, stricken by her own individual sorrow, the war came like a
rushing, mighty wind, rousing her from the brooding, introspective habit
which had laid hold of her and bracing her to take a fresh grip upon
life. Its immense demands, the illimitable suffering it carried in its
train, lifted her out of the contemplation of her own personal grief
into a veritable passion of pity for the world agony beating up around
her.

And, with Sara, to compassionate meant to succour. Nor did it require
more than the first few weeks of war to demonstrate where such help as
she was capable of giving was most sorely needed.

She had been through a course of First Aid and held her certifica