PREPARATIONS
THE days following the death of Caleb Warner were days of anxiety to
other inhabitants of the little town who, like David, had purchased
stock with glorious visions of sudden gain. In a short time the list of
Warner's unfortunate investors was known and they were accorded various
degrees of sympathy, rebuke or ridicule. The thing that hurt David was
not so much the knowledge that some were speaking of him in condemnation
or pity as the fact that he merited the condemnation.
But he had neither time nor inclination for self-pity. His country was
calling for his services and he knew his duty was to offer himself. He
could not conscientiously say his mother had urgent need of him for he
knew that the little farm would supply enough for her maintenance.
Phares Eby, although a preacher among a sect who, as a sect, could not
sanction the bearing of arms, accepted the decision of his cousin with
no show of disapproval. "I don't believe in wars," he said gravely, "but
there seems to be no other way this time. One of the Eby family should
go. I'll be glad to keep up your farm and help look after your mother
while you are gone. The most I can do here will be less than you are
going to do, but I'll raise the best crops I can and help in the food
end of it."
"You'll do your part here, Phares, and it will count. You're a bona-fide
farmer. You'll have our little place a record farm when I get back.
You're a brick, Phares!" For the first time in months he felt a genuine
affection for his preacher cousin. Preaching, prosaic Phares, how kind
he was!
Lancaster County measured up to its fair standard in those first trying
days of recruit gathering. The sons of the nation answered when she
called. Pennsylvania Dutch, hundreds of them, rallied round the flag and
proved beyond a doubt that the real Pennsylvania Dutch are not
German-American, but loyal, four-square Americans who are keeping the
faith. Two hundred years ago the ancestors of the present Pennsylvania
Dutch came to this country to escape tyranny, and the love of freedom
has been transmitted from one generation to another. The plain sects, so
flourishing in some portions of the Keystone State, consider war an
evil, yet scores of men in navy blue and army khaki have come from homes
where the mother wears the white cap, and have gone forth to do their
part in the struggle for world freedom.
As David Eby measured the days before his departure he felt grateful to
Mother Bab for refraining from long homilies of advice. Her whole life
was a living epistle of truth and nobility and she was wise enough to
discern that what her son wanted most in their last days together was
her customary cheerfulness--although he knew that at times the
cheerfulness was a bit bluffed!
News travels fast, even in rural communities. The people on the Metz
farm soon learned of David's loss of money and of his desire to enter
the navy.
"Why didn't you tell me about the stock?" Phoebe chided him.
"I couldn't. It knocked me out--it changed some of my plans. I knew
you'd despise me and I couldn't stand that too that day."
"Despise you! How foolish to think that. Of course it's better to earn
your money, but I think you learned your lesson."
"I have. I'll never try to get rich quick."
"And you're going to war!" The words were almost a cry. "What does
Mother Bab say? How dreadful for her!"
"Dreadful?" he asked gently. "Phoebe, think a minute--would you rather
be the mother of a soldier or sailor than the mother of a slacker?"
"I would," she cried. "A thousand times rather!" She clutched his sleeve
in her old impetuous manner. "I see now what it means, what war must
mean to us! We must serve and be glad to do it. Your going is making it
real for me. I'm proud of you and I know Mother Bab must be just about
bursting with pride, for she always did think you are the grandest son
in the wide world."
"Phoebe, you always stroke me with the grain."
"That sounds as if you were a wooden pussy-cat," she said merrily. "But
you are just being funny to hide your deeper feelings. I know you,
David Eby! Bet your heart's like lead this minute!"
"'I have no heart,'" he quoted. "'The place where my heart was you could
roll a turnip in.'"
She laughed, then suddenly grew sober. "I've been horribly selfish," she
said. "Having fine clothes and a good time and dreaming of fame through
my voice have taken all my time during the past winter. I have taken
only the husks of life and discarded the kernels. I'm ashamed of
myself."
"You mustn't condemn yourself too much. It's natural to pass through a
period when those things seem the greatest things in the world, but if
we do not shake off their influence and see the need of having real
things to lay hold on we need to be jolted. I was money-mad, but I had
my jolt."
"Then we can both make a fresh beginning. And we'll try hard to be
worthy of Mother Bab, won't we, David?"
David was mute; he could merely nod his head in answer. Worthy of Mother
Bab--what a goal! How sweet the name sounded from Phoebe's lips! Should
he tell her of his love for her? He looked into her face. Her eyes were
like clear blue pools but they mirrored only sisterly affection, he
thought. Ah, well, he would be unselfish enough to go away without
telling of the hope of his heart. If he came back there would be ample
time to tell her; it was needless to bind her to a long-absent lover. If
he came back crippled--if he never came back at all---- Oh, why delve
into the future!