th on
a plate. I have never told you this before. I did not wish to ruin your
belief that I am perfect. But--"

In the laugh that greeted this Graham returned. He was, Clayton saw,
vaguely puzzled by the rector and rather incredulous as to Delight's
attitude.

"Do you really want him to go?" he asked her.

"Of course. Aren't you going? Isn't everybody who is worth anything
going? I'd go myself if I could. You don't know how lucky you are."

"But is your Mother willing?"

"Why, what sort of a mother do you think I have?"

Clayton overheard that, and he saw Graham wince. His own hands clenched.
What a power in the world a brave woman was! And what evil could be
wrought by a woman without moral courage, a selfish woman. He brought
himself up short at that.

Others came in. Hutchinson, from the mill. Terry Mackenzie, Rodney Page,
in evening clothes and on his way from the opera to something or other.
In a corner Graham and Delight talked. The rector, in a high state of
exaltation, was inclined to be oratorical and a trifle noisy. He dilated
on the vast army that would rise overnight, at the call. He considered
the raising of a company from his own church, and nominated Clayton as
its captain. Nolan grinned sardonically.

"Precisely," he said dryly. "Clayton, because he looks like a Greek god,
is ideally fitted to lead a lot of men who never saw a bayonet outside
of a museum. Against trained fighting men. There's a difference you
know, dominie, between a clay pigeon and a German with a bomb in one
hand and a saw-toothed bayonet in the other."

"We did that in the Civil War."

"We did. And it took four years to fight a six-months war."

"We must have an army. I daresay you'll grant that."

"Well, you can bet on one thing; we're not going to have every ward boss
who wants to make a record raising a regiment out of his henchmen and
leading them to death."

"What would you suggest?" inquired the rector, rather crestfallen.

"I'd suggest training men as officers. And then--a draft."

"Never come to it in the world." Hutchinson spoke up. "I've heard men in
the mill talking. They'll go, some of them, but they won't be driven. It
would be civil war."

Clayton glanced at Graham as he replied. The boy was leaning forward,
listening.

"There's this to be said for the draft," he said. "Under the volunteer
system the best of our boys will go first. That's what happened in
England. And they were wiped out. It's every