on now, boss. Miss Lenore says I
was to keep my mouth shut."

"Jake, who's your boss? Me or Lenore?"

"Wal, you air. But I ain't disobeyin' Miss Lenore."

Anderson walked the rest of the way up the shady path to the house
without saying any more to Jake. The beautiful white house stood clear
of the grove, bright in the rays of the setting sun. A barking of dogs
greeted Anderson, and then the pattering of feet. His daughters appeared
on the porch. Kathleen, who was ten, made a dive for him, and Rose, who
was fourteen, came flying after her. Both girls were screaming joyously.
Their sunny hair danced. Lenore waited for him at the step, and as he
mounted the porch, burdened by the three girls, his anxious, sadly
smiling wife came out to make perfect the welcome home. No--not perfect,
for Anderson's joy held a bitter drop, the absence of his only son!

"Oh, dad, what-all did you fetch me?" cried Kathleen, and she deserted
her father for the bundle-laden Jake.

"And me!" echoed Rose.

Even Lenore, in the happiness of her father's return, was not proof
against the wonder and promise of those many bundles.

They all went within, through a hall to a great, cozy living-room. Mrs.
Anderson's very first words, after her welcoming smile, were a
half-faltered:

"Any--news of--Jim?"

"Why--yes," replied Anderson, hesitatingly.

Suddenly the three sisters were silent. How closely they resembled one
another then--Lenore, a budding woman; Rose, a budding girl; and
Kathleen, a rosy, radiant child! Lenore lost a little of her bloom.

"What news, father?" she asked.

"Haven't you heard from him?" returned Anderson.

"Not for a whole week. He wrote the day he reached Spokane. But then he
hardly knew anything except that he'd enlisted."

"I'm sure glad Jim didn't wait for the draft," replied the father.
"Well, mother an' girls, Jim was gone when I got to Spokane. All I heard
was that he was well when he left for Frisco an' strong for the aviation
corps."

"Then he means to--to be an aviator," said Lenore, with quivering lips.

"Sure, if he can get in. An' he's wise. Jim knows engines. He has a
knack for machinery. An' nerve! No boy ever had more. He'll make a crack
flier."

"But--the danger!" whispered the boy's mother, with a shudder.

"I reckon there'll be a little danger, mother," replied Anderson,
cheerfully. "We've got to take our chance on Jim. There's one sure bet.
If he had stayed home he'd been fightin' I.W.W