Defenders of Democracy Part 49

"I heard the 'phone," she faltered. "Miss. Cameron always calls up to know if Billy's all right--"

"I know that she does," said Cameron, stiffly, and, rising, he stocking-footed it past her and shut himself in his bedroom.

"yes, sir; good night, sir." Miss Merritt stared at his door. "Good Lord!" she whispered in the nursery, "how awful for Billy and her if he takes to drink!"

Nellie came out of the telephone booth, her face white with horror.

"Willoughby," she gasped, "get me a taxi quick!"

"Billy--"

"No, no, NO! It's Joe!"

"What--"

"Oh," she wailed, "I've gone too far! Joe is--drunk!"

Willoughby's face went to pieces.

"Don't look like that, Nell! Don't! What of it? Just what we've been up to, isn't it?"

"How can you say that? Get my wraps. I am going home."

"Your car isn't ordered till eleven--"

"What do I care what I go in? Oh, I have been such a fool!"

"Don't mention it," grinned Crane as he wrapped her coat about her.

Gaily Crane waved his white-gloved hand to her, her face gleaming back pearl-like for an instant in the shadowy taxi; then she was whirled northward and lost in the snowy night. Back in his place next to Nellie's empty chair, he mused tenderly over the vagaries of a mere bachelor till the incomparable Austrian carried his mind off to where tone is reality, where there is neither marriage nor giving in marriage.

Nellie fitted the key into the lock. Her fingers shook. The apartment was dark except for a light in the hall, and as still as if it were empty. If only Joe would STAY asleep till he'd had time to sleep this horrible state of affairs away!

She switched off the light and carefully let herself into their room, and stood a moment, huddled, breathless, against the door.

The room was ghostly. The vague, snow-veiled light filtered in from the street-lamp below, making of Cameron an incoherent lump, wrapped to his eyes in the covers of their chintz-hung bed.

Her hands clasped tight, she peered at him through the shadows.

He did not move. He was sleeping heavily, curiously, irregularly, his breath coming in jerky little snorts. "Oh," she wailed in her guilt heart, "he is, he is! Poor dear old Joey, drunk! And it's all, all my fault!" Swiftly she undressed in the dark. If he were to awaken, to begin saying awful maudlin things---

Her heart pounding, she lifted the covers and crept into martyrdom on the hard edge of the bed. Cameron slept on. Once he seemed to be strangling in a bad dream, and she fought with her sense of duty to awaken him, then, miserably, let him strangle!

Gravely Nellie's tired eyes traveled from familiar shadow to shadow, to rest at last upon the dangling heap of clothes upon a chair by the window that symbolized Joe Cameron by the sane light of day.

Fatigue tossed her off to sleep now and then; terror s.n.a.t.c.hed her back and made her cry. In the first faint dawn she awakened with a start to find that in her sleep her tired body had slipped back to its place, and her head was resting deliciously upon her pillow.

And, with the growing dawn, humor came creeping back, and try as she would, her mouth twitched. Of all people, dear old Joey!

Carefully she turned her head and peered at him. His face was turned toward her, what light there was fell full upon him. Wonder took away her smile. His face was fresh, the lines of care and worry softened away as if he were at the end of a two weeks' vacation.

She rested her chin on her arm, amazed, puzzled. And suddenly a grin like the sunrise spread over Joe's face, and he opened his eyes.

[signed] Alice Woods

By courtesy of "The Century."

To Those Who Go

In a sense the hundreds of thousands of American soldiers who go to France are modern crusaders. Like the valiant men of the Middle Ages who traveled far to fight in strange lands for the ideal that possessed their souls, these twentieth-century knights-errant go to defend the ideals of liberty and right and honor which are the issues of this war and which our Allies have successfully upheld for more than three years.

In that chivalric spirit General Pershing stood at the tomb of LaFayette and said, "LaFayette, we are here." As a young man only twenty years old LaFayette went out to a new land to fight for liberty, and now after nearly a century and a half the same inspiration that sent him forth is taking our young men back to fight in the land o his birth the old fight for right. The great romance of international history which the relations of France and America have afforded from the birth of this republic has entered a new chapter with the pilgrimage of our fighting men to Europe, and the inestimable service of LaFayette and his comrades to our infant republic is now to be in part repaid by the nation that France helped to establish.

But though it is a chivalric mission on which our soldiers go, they should not enter France in the att.i.tude of saviors. It must be remembered that the United States came very late into this war, and while our troops and even more our money and material resources may have decisive weight toward victory, yet it is France, England, Italy, Russia against whom the enemy has spent his strength. Our Allies have brought the war already to its turning point, and we can at best only add completeness to their achievement. Furthermore, while we aid France and her Allies, we are defending ourselves also. We went to war because Germany was killing our citizens, was plotting against the peace and security of our nation, because her restless ambition and l.u.s.t for power were choking not only Europe but the world.

Our American soldiers will find in France a people who have endured with wonderful courage and devotion through more than three years of terrific strain against odds which must often have seemed hopeless. The French are the heroes of this war. They have been in the fight from the beginning and will be there until the end.

Their armies were fully engaged when England had not a hundred thousand men under arms and Italy was a neutral; they fought on when Russia lost her grip; and they will not quit until their land is cleared of invaders and the Prussian shadow that has darkened France for more than forty years is lifted. More than any other country except Belgium, France has felt the horror and hardships of the war which we are spared because she has paid the price of our protection.

American soldiers who go to France are to be envied because they are getting what comes to few men,--opportunity to be of direct, vital service to that country. To be young, to be fit, to have a part however small in the great events that are making the world over into a safer and happier place for our children to live in, is something for a man to be proud of now and to remember with satisfaction to his last day.

The war may last much longer than we now antic.i.p.ate, but there can be no doubt of the ultimate victory of the cause to which we are committed. The world never turns back, it moves always forward, always upward. Our soldiers may go out, as the Crusaders went of old, with absolute faith that their service will not be given in vain, that their effort and daring will not be unavailing.

[signed] Myron Herrick

The Hero's Peace

There is a peace that springs where battles thunder, Unknown to those who walk the ways of peace Drowsy with safety, praising soft release From pain and strife and the discomfortable wonder Of life lived vehemently to its last, wild flame: This peace thinks not of safety, is not bound To the wincing flesh, nor to the piteous round Of human hopes and memories, nor to Fame.

Immutable and immortal it is born Within the spirit that has looked on fear Till fear has looked askance; on death has gazed As on an equal, and with n.o.ble scorn, Spurning the self that held the self too dear, To the height of being mounts calm and unamazed.

[signed] Amelie Rives (Princess Troubetzkoy)

Castle Hill, Virginia