And there came from over my head a low ripple of laughter, and I looked
up into Eve's lovely, smiling face. She slipped down upon the seat
beside me, and I reached out for her hand, that was already reaching out
for mine, and her fingers clasped mine close.
"My goodness, Eve," I said, "but I'm glad to have you back--and Pukkie."
"You're no gladder to have me than I am to get back. I don't ever want
to go anywhere without you, Adam. But I've seen him--seen Joffre--and I
waved with all my might, and I cried. I knew I should."
"And Pukkie?"
"Oh, father stopped for him on the way up. He said until the end of the
year was too long to wait, and he'd bring him back in two days. The
headmaster didn't want to let him go, but father generally has his way.
And it began to rain, but we didn't mind."
"And when you saw Joffre you wept?"
"Not exactly. There was a young fellow standing in the crowd quietly,
with his arm in a sling. He was hardly more than a boy, and he looked
sick. He had beautiful sombre eyes, with a look in them that--well, as
if he had seen so much, and as if he did not quite understand. You
should have seen his eyes. Like a wild thing. And when Joffre came, I
thought he would go crazy. He waved his cap frantically, and the tears
just streamed out of his eyes, and you should have heard him. Joffre
heard, and saw, and he leaned out of the car, and he saluted that boy.
My! That boy was proud. You can guess--that was when I cried. And we got
him into the car with us. He didn't look able to go far. He was a
soldier who had been with the Canadians over there, a Frenchman by
birth. He told us a little about it, but he didn't seem to want to talk.
He had been wounded, and sick, and had come back over here on sick leave
or something of the kind. And he and Lejeune, the chauffeur, got to
talking, and we took him home. He wants to get back into the fighting as
soon as he can. And when he got out, Lejeune got out too. He was going
to enlist."
"Left you on the spot?"
Eve laughed. "Yes," she said, "but I rather guess that it wasn't
unexpected. I shouldn't be surprised if that was what father took him
for. At any rate, father just smiled, and gave them both his blessing,
and told Lejeune to come back when the war was over. And he gave him
some money, and said that they could divide it between them."
"How much, I wonder?"
"I don't know how much, but a good deal, considerably more than a
hundred dollars. He had a note already written, too, a 'character,' as
the maids call it, saying that he was a good chauffeur. Then Tom--he had
been getting uneasy--said that he wanted to be in on this too, but he
wasn't so well prepared as father. And he gave them all he had with him,
except a dollar or two. That was too much for the French boy, and he
waved his cap again, and cried, '_Vive la France! Vive l'Amerique!_'
with the tears streaming down his face again. And I cried some more, and
so did Cecily. Oh, I had a lovely time, Adam."
Eve was laughing again, and pressing closer to me. "That French boy was
a machinist before he went to the war, and Lejeune is a good chauffeur,
and I shouldn't wonder if they'd both get into driving when they get
over there. I hope so. But he wasn't thinking of that, the French boy.
He is ready to go back, when his time comes, and meet his fate with a
high heart. With a high heart, Adam. Oh," she cried, "don't you think it
is stirring--just a little--to the imagination? Don't you?" And she gave
me a little shake.
I nodded soberly, and hugged Pukkie closer. "I rejoice, Eve," I said
irrelevantly, "that Pukkie is not yet eleven."
Eve did not reply directly. Her eyes filled with tears, and she drew
Pukkie around between us. "I suppose it is selfish," she said. "If a
French machinist goes--only about eight or nine years older than
Pukkie--and can stir me all up with the idea of it--why--"
She did not finish, so I did not know what she would have asked. But I
could guess.
"War is wicked," I said. "There is no novelty in that idea. But if a
wicked war is started, it may be more wicked to keep out of it than to
go in, and there may be more misery involved in keeping out than in
going in. I don't know about this one, and I don't believe that anybody
knows. One thing I do know, and that is that wars will continue to occur
at intervals as long as human nature is what it is. Man is a fighting
animal. When he ceases to be, the time of his fall will have arrived. I
have spoken."