ions. How perfectly absurd!"

"If there is a war, I want to get in it," Philip insisted. "I've always
wanted to go to war, and never supposed I would have a chance."

"I'll go with you," announced Billy with sudden enthusiasm, looking
significantly at Merry as he saw the solution of his troubles. "I don't
care what side I'm on or against whom I fight. Let's enlist together,
Phil."

"You couldn't fight except for your own country, you silly," Merry
laughed.

"Of course I could," he insisted stoutly. "You never think I can do what
I say I can, but I'll show you. I can be a soldier of fortune like
Robert Clay, or I can be a Canadian and get shot up as much as I like."

"But this isn't in a story, Billy, and Robert Clay was. More than that,
you're no Canadian."

"Anyhow I was in Canada once."

"Don't mind Billy," Phil interrupted. "I'm really serious. There must be
some way I could get into it. You know, Mother, how much I've always
wanted to."

"Yes, my boy; I do know," Mrs. Thatcher answered. "Ever since you were
old enough to play with toys it has always been soldiers and wars. I
have thanked God that war was a horror of the past, for I know how hard
it would be to hold you back if the opportunity offered."

"If he goes, then I go with him," Billy said with decision.

"You both had better wait until war is declared by somebody against
somebody else," Cosden suggested.

"You don't think they'll patch it up, do you?" Philip inquired
anxiously.

"Let us hope so," Mrs. Thatcher answered; "but this is a pleasure
expedition. Let us banish thoughts of war."

As the launch rounded a rocky promontory a roaring fire was disclosed
burning on the beach, around which several of the house servants were
already busied in preparing supper. Back from the beach, beneath great
spreading oaks, a cloth was laid on the ground, to which the contents of
the hampers were being transferred. The usual limitations of camp life
were conspicuous by their absence, the fascinations were emphasized by
the marvelous smoothness with which everything was conducted.

"I don't call this picnicking," Edith declared, after her first taste of
chowder. "Plant a forest of trees in Sherry's ball-room, paint an ocean
on the wall, fake a moon rising over the orchestra stage, everybody sit
cross-legged on the floor,--and there you have it. Sherry certainly
couldn't improve on the service or the food."

"I can't find even an ant on mine," Billy comp