"Edwin, it's come--he's leaving me--it--"

"Speaking of service, I--I guess I might have mentioned it before, mother,
but--but--when war was declared the other day, a--a bunch of us fellows
volunteered for--for the university unit to France, and--well, I'm
accepted, mother--to go. The lists went up to-night. I'm one of the twenty
picked fellows."

"France?"

"We sail for Bordeaux for ambulance service the twentieth, mother. I was
the fourth accepted with my qualifications--driving my own car and--and
physical fitness. I'm going to France, mother, among the first to do my
bit. I know a fellow got over there before we were in the war and worked
himself into the air-fleet. That's what I want, mother, air service!
They're giving us fellows credit for our senior year just the same. Bob
Vandaventer and Clarence Unger and some of the fellows like that are in the
crowd. Are you a dead-game sport, little mother, and not going to make a
fuss--"

"I--don't know. What--is--it--I--"

"Your son at the front, mother, helping to make the world a safer place for
democracy. Does a little mother with something like that to bank on have
time to be miserable over family rows? You're going to knit while I'm gone.
The busiest little mother a fellow ever had, doing her bit for her country!
There's signs up all over the girls' campus: 'A million soldiers "out
there" are needing wool jackets and chest-protectors. How many will you
take care of?' You're going to be the busiest little mother a fellow ever
had. You're going to stop making a fuss over me and begin to make a fuss
over your country. We're going into service, mother!"

"Don't leave me, Edwin! Baby darling, don't leave me! I'm alone! I'm
afraid."

"There, there, little mother," he said, patting at her and blinking,
"I--Why--why, there's men come back from every war, and plenty of them.
Good Lord! just because a fellow goes to the front, he--"

"I got nothing left. Everything I've worked for has slipped through my life
like sand through a sieve. My hands are empty. I've lost your father on
the success I slaved for. I'm losing my boy on the fine ideas and college
education I've slaved for. I--Don't leave me, Edwin. I'm afraid--Don't--"

"Mother--I--Don't be cut up about it. I--"

"Why should I give to this war? I ain't a fine woman with the fine ideas
you learn at college. I ask so little of life--just some one who needs me,
some one to do for. I 'ain't got any fine ideas a