le up at me every morning, Jean."

So she wrote to him bravely, cheerfully, of her busy days, of how she
missed him, of her love and longing, but not a word did she say of her
world as it really was.

But there was no laughter in the things she said to the old memory book.

"I don't like big houses--not houses like this, with grinning porcelain
Chinese gods at every turn of the hall, and gold dragons on the
bed-posts. There are six of us here besides the servants, yet we are
like dwarfs in a giant palace. Perhaps if we had the usual fires it
wouldn't seem quite so forlorn. But the china in the cabinets is so
cold--and the ceilings are so high--and the marble floors--.

"Perhaps if everyone were happy it would be different. But only Emily
is happy. And I don't see how she can be. She is going to marry a
Hun! Of course, he isn't really, and he'd be a darling dear if it
weren't for his German name, and his German blood, and the German
things he has in his house. But Emily says she loves his house, that
it speaks to her of a different Germany--of the sweet old gay Germany
that waltzed and sang and loved simple things. It seems so funny to
think of Emily in love--she's so much older than people are usually
when they are engaged and married.

"But Emily is the only happy one, except the children, and I sometimes
think that even they have the shadow on them of the dreadful things
that are happening. Margaret-Mary tries to knit, and tires her stubby
little fingers with the big needles, and Teddy, poor chap, seems to
feel that he must be the man of the family and take his father's place,
and he is pathetically careful of his mother.

"I wonder if Margaret feels as I do about it all? She is so sweet and
smiling--and yet I know how her heart weeps, and I know how she longs
for her own house and her own hearth and her own husband--

"Oh, when my Derry comes back safe and sound--and he will come back
safe, I shall say it over and over to myself until I make it true--when
Derry comes back, we'll build a cottage, with windows that look out on
trees and a garden--and there'll be cozy little rooms, and we'll take
Polly Ann and Muffin--and live happy ever after--.

"I wonder how father stands it to be always with people who are sick?
I never knew what it meant until now. The General is an old dear--but
sometimes when I sit in that queer room of his with its lacquer and
gold and see him in his gorgeous dressing gown, I