ken her an instant to formulate her speech.

"I'm interested in the poor children of Dorfield," she began, "having
been sent here as the agent of an organization devoted to clothing our
needy little ones. I find, since I have been soliciting subscriptions
in Dorfield and investigating the requirements of the poor, that there
are a lot of boys, especially, in this city who are in rags, and I want
to purchase for them as many outfits as my money will allow. But on
account of the war, and its demands on people formerly charitably
inclined, I realize my subscription money is altogether too little to
do what I wish. That's too bad, but it's true. Everywhere they talk
war--war---war and its hardships. The war demands money for taxes,
bonds, mess funds, the Red Cross and all sorts of things, and in
consequence our poor are being sadly neglected."

He nodded, somewhat absently, but said nothing. Josie felt her clever
bait had not been taken, as she had expected, so she resolved to be
more audacious in her remarks.

"It seems a shame," she said with assumed indignation, "that the poor
of the country must starve and be in want, while the money is all
devoted to raising an army for the Germans to shoot and mangle."

He saw the point and answered with a broad smile:

"Is that the alternative, young lady? Must one or the other happen?
Well--yes; the soldiers must be killed, God help 'em! But _himmel!_ We
don't let our kiddies freeze for lack of clothes, do we? See here;
they're taking everything away from us merchants--our profits, our
goods, everything!--but the little we got left the kiddies can have.
The war is a robber; it destroys; it puts its hand in an honest man's
pocket without asking his consent; all wars do that. The men who make
wars have no souls--no mercy. But they make wars. Wars are desperate
things and require desperate methods. There is always the price to pay,
and the people always pay it. The autocrats of war do not say 'Please!'
to us; they say 'Hold up your hands!' and so--what is there to do but
hold up our hands?"

Josie was delighted; she was exultant; Jake Kasker was falling into her
trap very swiftly.

"But the little ones," he continued, suddenly checking himself in his
tirade, "must not be made to suffer like the grown-up folks. They, at
least, are innocent of it all. Young lady, I'd do more for the kids
than I'd do for the war--and I'll do it willingly, of my own accord.
Tell me, then, how much