d shoot through my mind that
Russia might have something to say if Servia were attacked; and I
thought that if I were Milly I should have a qualm of anxiety about my
captain-count. But I didn't wish to worry her with such a remote
suggestion, and our war conversation ended there. None of us bothered
seriously with the papers for the next day or two. Sight-seeing in
Belgium seemed to us the last thing on earth which could possibly
connect itself with an ultimatum, or even a declaration of war on
Servia. We went from Bruges to Ghent, from Ghent to Antwerp, from
Antwerp to Brussels, from Brussels to Namur, to Louvain, and Spa, and so
at last arrived at Liege. The next item on our programme was a run into
Luxemburg, which was to finish our trip; and in a few days more Tony was
to leave us to catch his ship for home, as his holiday was over. He had
been behaving so well that I minded being engaged less than I'd
expected; and it was nice to be petted by Milly and Mrs. Dalziel and
loaded with presents. It was the first time in my life that I had
experienced anything of the sort, for I had always been the one who
didn't matter, at home. Each place we visited seemed more beautiful than
the last, and I was trying hard to say to myself, "This is happiness, or
all you can expect to know. Make the most of it, and be a sensible
Peggy!"

It was late on the night of Wednesday, July 29th, when we arrived at
quaint old Liege; and though we knew that Austria had declared war, and
that all the great powers were muttering thunderously, it didn't seem as
if anything devastating would really happen. That was much too bad to be
true, and everything seemed so peaceful and comfortable. Hotel keepers
smiled and said that the war scare was sure to blow over as it had blown
over time after time in the past. We met other people gayly touring like
ourselves. They all appeared to be easy in their minds and free from
care, so we followed their pleasant example; and the sun shone on us,
and Belgium seemed the prettiest and most pacific of all countries,
basking under a cloudless sky.

"Telegram for you, dear," Mrs. Dalziel said to Milly as she sorted the
post handed to her by the man in the hotel bureau at Liege. Then she
dealt out envelopes to Tony and me, and we were rather sleepily busied
with them when Milly gave a gasp. "Oh, Mamma, he's got to _fight_!" she
squealed.

"He--who?" questioned Mrs. Dalziel dazedly in the midst of deciphering a
clos