regimental flag lettered in gold: '3d Regt. N. Y. Zouaves,' and
under it their motto: '_Multorum manibus grande levatur onus_.' I
hope it is good Latin, for it is mine. Is it?

"AILSA PAIGE."

To this letter he made no reply, and, after a week, his silence
hurt her.

One afternoon toward the middle of May Stephen was announced; and
with a sudden sense of foreboding she hastened down to the
drawing-room.

"_Oh_!" she cried. "_You_--Stephen!"

But the boy in his zouave uniform was beside himself with
excitement and pride, and he embraced her, laughing, and then began
to walk up and down the room gesticulating.

"I couldn't stand it any longer, and they let me go. I'm sorry for
mother, but look at other men's mothers! They're calling for more
and more troops every week! I knew everybody would have to go, and
I'm mighty fortunate to get into father's regiment--And O Ailsa!
It is a fine regiment! We're drilling every minute, and now that
we've got our uniforms it won't be long before our orders come----"

"Stephen--does your mother----"

"Mother knows I can't help it. I _do_ love her; she knows that
perfectly well. But men have got to settle this thing----"

"Two hundred thousand are getting ready to settle it! Are there
hot enough without you?--your mother's only son----"

"Suppose everybody thought that way, where would our army be?"

"But there are hundreds of regiments forming here--getting ready,
drilling, leaving on boats and trains every day----"

"And every regiment is composed of men exactly like me! They go
because the Nation's business is everybody's business. And the
Nation's business comes first. There's no use talking to me,
Ailsa. I've had it but with father. He saw that he couldn't
prevent me from doing what he has done. And old Lent is our major!
Lord, Ailsa, _what_ a terrible old man for discipline! And father
is--well he is acting as though we ought to behave like West
Pointers. They're cruelly hard on skylarkers and guard runners,
and they're fairly kicking discipline into us. But I'm willing.
I'm ready to stand anything as long as we can get away!"

He was talking in a loud, excited voice, pacing restlessly to and
fro, pausing at intervals to confront Ailsa where she sat, limp and
silent, gazing up at this slender youth in his short blue jacket
edged with many bell-buttons, blue body sash, scarlet zouave
trousers and leather gaiters.

Presently old Jonas shuffled in