t mother's face when I
showed it to her. 'That--my little Jem--the baby of the old House of
Dreams?' was all she said.

"There was a letter from Faith, too. She is doing V.A.D. work in
England and writes hopefully and brightly. I think she is almost
happy--she saw Jem on his last leave and she is so near him she could
go to him, if he were wounded. That means so much to her. Oh, if I were
only with her! But my work is here at home. I know Walter wouldn't have
wanted me to leave mother and in everything I try to 'keep faith' with
him, even to the little details of daily life. Walter died for
Canada--I must live for her. That is what he asked me to do."

28th January 1918

"'I shall anchor my storm-tossed soul to the British
fleet and make a batch of bran biscuits,' said Susan today to Cousin
Sophia, who had come in with some weird tale of a new and
all-conquering submarine, just launched by Germany. But Susan is a
somewhat disgruntled woman at present, owing to the regulations
regarding cookery. Her loyalty to the Union Government is being sorely
tried. It surmounted the first strain gallantly. When the order about
flour came Susan said, quite cheerfully, 'I am an old dog to be
learning new tricks, but I shall learn to make war bread if it will
help defeat the Huns.'

"But the later suggestions went against Susan's grain. Had it not been
for father's decree I think she would have snapped her fingers at Sir
Robert Borden.

"'Talk about trying to make bricks without straw, Mrs. Dr. dear! How am
I to make a cake without butter or sugar? It cannot be done--not cake
that is cake. Of course one can make a slab, Mrs. Dr. dear. And we
cannot even camooflash it with a little icing! To think that I should
have lived to see the day when a government at Ottawa should step into
my kitchen and put me on rations!'

"Susan would give the last drop of her blood for her 'king and
country,' but to surrender her beloved recipes is a very different and
much more serious matter.

"I had letters from Nan and Di too--or rather notes. They are too busy
to write letters, for exams are looming up. They will graduate in Arts
this spring. I am evidently to be the dunce of the family. But somehow
I never had any hankering for a college course, and even now it doesn't
appeal to me. I'm afraid I'm rather devoid of ambition. There is only
one thing I really want to be--and I don't know if I'll be it or not.
If not--I don't want to be anythin