spark of manhood in him,
he would not allow a young girl to out-do him in patriotism.

Mary Louise gradually added to her ranks, as girl after girl begged to
be enrolled in the organization. After consulting the others, it was
decided to admit all desirable girls between the ages of 14 and 18, and
six companies were formed during the following weeks, each company
consisting of twenty girls. The captains were the original six--Alora,
Laura, Edna, Lucile, Jane and Mary Louise. Irene Macfarlane was made
adjutant and quartermaster, because she was unable to participate
actively in the regimental drills.

Mary Louise wanted Josie to be their general, but Josie declined. She
even resigned, temporarily, from membership, saying she had other
duties to attend to that would require all her time. Then the girls
wanted Mary Louise to be general of the Dorfield Liberty Girls, but she
would not consent.

"We will just have the six companies and no general at all," she said.
"Nor do we need a colonel, or any officers other than our captains.
Each and every girl in our ranks is just as important and worthy of
honor as every other girl, so the fewer officers the better."

About this time Joe Langley came back from France with one arm gone. He
was Sergeant Joe Langley, now, and wore a decoration for bravery that
excited boundless admiration and pride throughout all Dorfield. Joe had
driven a milk wagon before he left home and went to Canada to join the
first contingent sent abroad, but no one remembered his former humble
occupation. A hero has no past beyond his heroism. The young man's
empty sleeve and his decoration admitted him to intercourse with the
"best society" of Dorfield, which promptly placed him on a pedestal.

"You know," said Joe, rather shamefacedly deprecating the desire to
lionize him, "there wasn't much credit in what I did. I'm even sorry I
did it, for my foolishness sent me to the hospital an' put me out o'
the war. But there was Tom McChesney, lyin' out there in No Man's Land,
with a bullet in his chest an' moanin' for water. Tom was a good chum
o' mine, an' I was mad when I saw him fall--jest as the Boches was
drivin' us back to our trenches. I know'd the poor cuss was in misery,
an' I know'd what I'd expect a chum o' mine to do if I was in Tom's
place. So out I goes, with my Cap'n yellin' at me to stop, an' I got to
Tom an' give him a good, honest swig. The bullets pinged around us,
although I saw a German of