butchered--her little son
who had lain in a manger and whom she had loved as much as any
less-worshipped mother,--and he had told the world what he thought of
sin and injustice and cruelty, and the world had hated him because he
had set himself against these things--and they had killed him, and from
his death had come the regeneration of mankind.

And now, other men, following him, were setting themselves against
injustice and cruelty, and they were being killed for it. But perhaps
their sacrifices, too, would be for the salvation of the world. Oh, if
only it might be for the world's salvation!

She walked quite soberly beside Mrs. Connolly back to the house. She
took her knitting to the kitchen. Mrs. Connolly was knitting socks.
"I don't mind the fighting as much as I do the chance of their taking
cold. And I'm afraid they won't have the sense to change their socks
when they are wet. I have sent them pairs and pairs--but they'll never
know enough to change--

"It is funny how a mother worries about a thing like that," she
continued. "I suppose it is because you've always worried about their
taking cold, and you've never had to worry much about their being
killed. I always used to put them to bed with hot drinks and hot
baths, and a lot of blankets, and I keep thinking that there won't be
anybody to put them to bed."

Jean knitted a long row, and then she spoke. "Mrs. Connolly, I'm going
to be married, before Daddy leaves for France."

"I am happy to hear that, my dear."

"I didn't know it until last night--Daddy wasn't willing. I--I feel as
if it couldn't be really true--that I am going to be married, Mrs.
Connolly."

There was a tremble of her lip and clasping of her little hands.

Mary Connolly laid down her work. "I guess you miss your mother,
blessed lamb. I remember when she was married. I was young, too, but
I felt a lot older with my two babies, and Jim and I were so glad the
Doctor had found a wife. He needed one, if ever a man did--for he
liked his gay good time."

"Daddy?" said Jean, incredulously. It is hard for youth to visualize
the adolescence of its elders. Dr. McKenzie's daughter beheld in him
none of the elements of a Lothario. He was beyond the pale of romance!
He was fifty, which settled at once all matters of sentiment!

"Indeed, he was gay, my dear, and he had broken half the hearts in the
county, and then your mother came for a visit. She didn't look in the
least lik