ss plot by the door, so that he might still
be near enough to chat with his daughter, while enjoying the morning
air.

Betty found tidy little Martha, fresh and clean as a rosebud,
stepping busily about, setting the table with extra places and putting
the chairs around. Filled with self-condemnation at the sight of her
sister's helpfulness, she dashed upstairs to do her part in getting
all neat for the day. First she coaxed naughty little Jamie, who, in
his nightshirt, was out on the porch roof fishing, dangling his shoe
over the edge by its strings tied to his father's cane, to return and
be hustled into his trousers--funny little garments that came almost
to his shoe tops--and to stand still while "sister" washed his face
and brushed his curly red hair into a state of semi-orderliness.

Then there was Bobby to be kissed and coaxed, and washed and dressed,
and told marvelous tales to beguile him into listening submission.
"Mother, mayn't I put Bobby's Sunday dress on him?" called Betty, from
the head of the stairs.

"Yes, dear, anything you like, but hurry. Breakfast is almost ready;"
then to Martha, "Leave the sweeping, deary, and run down to the spring
for the cream." To her father, Mary explained: "The little girls are a
great help. Betty manages to do for the boys without irritating them.
Now we'll eat while the cakes are hot. Come, Bertrand."

It was a grave mission and a sorrowful one, that early morning ride to
say good-by to those youthful volunteers. The breakfast conversation
turned on the subject with subdued intensity. Mary Ballard did not
explain herself,--she was too busy serving,--but denounced the war in
broad terms as "unnecessary and iniquitous," thus eliciting from her
husband his usual exclamation, when an aphorism of more than ordinary
daring burst from her lips: "Mary! why, Mary! I'm astonished!"

"Every one regards it from a different point of view," said his wife,
"and this is my point." It was conclusive.

Grandfather Clide turned sideways, leaned one elbow on the table in a
meditative way he had, and spoke slowly. Betty gazed up at him in
wide-eyed attention, while Mary poured the coffee and Martha helped
her mother by passing the cakes. Bobby sat close to his comfortable
grandmother, who seemed to be giving him all her attention, but who
heard everything, and was ready to drop a quiet word of significance
when applicable.

"If we bring the question down to its primal cause," said gran