, just to
think things out and remember that she wasn't a child any longer--she
was grown-up and women had to face things like this. But it
was--nice--to get away alone now and then, where nobody could see her
and where she needn't feel that people thought her a little coward if
some tears came in spite of her.

How sweet and woodsey the ferns smelled! How softly the great feathery
boughs of the firs waved and murmured over her! How elfinly rang the
bells of the "Tree Lovers"--just a tinkle now and then as the breeze
swept by! How purple and elusive the haze where incense was being
offered on many an altar of the hills! How the maple leaves whitened in
the wind until the grove seemed covered with pale silvery blossoms!
Everything was just the same as she had seen it hundreds of times; and
yet the whole face of the world seemed changed.

"How wicked I was to wish that something dramatic would happen!" she
thought. "Oh, if we could only have those dear, monotonous, pleasant
days back again! I would never, never grumble about them again."

Rilla's world had tumbled to pieces the very day after the party. As
they lingered around the dinner table at Ingleside, talking of the war,
the telephone had rung. It was a long-distance call from Charlottetown
for Jem. When he had finished talking he hung up the receiver and
turned around, with a flushed face and glowing eyes. Before he had said
a word his mother and Nan and Di had turned pale. As for Rilla, for the
first time in her life she felt that every one must hear her heart
beating and that something had clutched at her throat.

"They are calling for volunteers in town, father," said Jem. "Scores
have joined up already. I'm going in tonight to enlist."

"Oh--Little Jem," cried Mrs. Blythe brokenly. She had not called him
that for many years--not since the day he had rebelled against it.
"Oh--no--no--Little Jem."

"I must, mother. I'm right--am I not, father?" said Jem.

Dr. Blythe had risen. He was very pale, too, and his voice was husky.
But he did not hesitate.

"Yes, Jem, yes--if you feel that way, yes--"

Mrs. Blythe covered her face. Walter stared moodily at his plate. Nan
and Di clasped each others' hands. Shirley tried to look unconcerned.
Susan sat as if paralysed, her piece of pie half-eaten on her plate.
Susan never did finish that piece of pie--a fact which bore eloquent
testimony to the upheaval in her inner woman for Susan considered it a
cardinal offenc