Trees that lined the streets of Hillsdale were touched with tints of red
and gold, frescoed by the magic brush of approaching winter.
In the _Eagle_ office sat the Colonel and Mr. Strong, looking
thoughtfully into their laps. Tears glistened on their cheeks; for
several minutes neither of them had spoken. Held in the editor's fingers
was an open letter just received, while in the Colonel's inert hand lay
a clipping from the Paris _Figaro_. The Colonel now glanced up slowly
but, seeing Mr. Strong's face, sharply exclaimed:
"I wish you'd stop your infernal weeping, Amos!"
"I wish you'd stop your own!" the editor replied with equal asperity;
then both of them began to laugh.
"I confess, Amos, that it's hard to keep back tears. Why, by gad, sir,
he has done as much as we ever did in the old fracas over here!--more,
sir! And Marian--who the devil is that fellow she eulogizes to the sky?
Here," he handed over the clipping, "read this again! It's a pity it
isn't printed in English!"
"Let me first read what Marian says, Roger; then we'll take the
clipping."
Three times within the last half hour these old gentlemen had followed
exactly this same routine: first taking Marian's letter, written from
Paris where she had been sent for a well-earned rest, and then
laboriously translating the newspaper item she inclosed to them.
Mr. Strong now adjusted his glasses and began the letter a fourth time,
while the Colonel leaned forward, hanging upon each word. It recited
first what Tim Doreen had magnanimously told about Jeb, losing none of
that Irishman's vividness; then it went on at great length to describe a
certain Dr. Georges Bonsecours. Page after page she wrote of him; citing
innumerable instances of his valor, both while under gruelling fire out
on the field and endless hours of indefatigable work beneath the dug-out
shelters. Having fully covered his present, she dashed into his past
with a reckless disregard of ink and paper, and filled many other pages.
Only once did the Colonel interrupt, and then to remark drily:
"Seems like a pretty thorough biographical sketch, Amos."
He had made this same observation, just at this same place, upon each of
the previous readings; and the editor had hesitated, cleared his
throat--as he now did--before continuing with the only mention Marian
had written of this great surgeon's future, which was, briefly:
"When the war is over, he is coming out to Hillsdale."
For a fourth time now Mr. Strong's eyes grew moist, as he asked:
"What do you suppose he wants to come out here to Hillsdale for?"
The Colonel had not previously deigned to answer this; he had merely
subsided into silence and let a lump rise in his throat in sympathy with
the editor. This time, however, he turned squarely to his friend and
asked:
"Amos, are you trying to be a pig-headed old fool, or do you really want
the truth!"
Mr. Strong looked at him rather humorously.
"I think I'll dodge the truth, at any rate, Roger--until this doctor
arrives. How do you think Miss Sallie and Miss Veemie will take it?"
"Take it? Why, they'll take it just as we do--with joyful hearts,
because their boy and our girl have achieved great things! I never
wanted her to marry Jeb, anyhow!" And to Mr. Strong's smile of surprise,
he thundered: "By cracky, I tell you I didn't, Roger! Jeb was too
immature for her--he had yet to prove himself!"
"He's proved himself now," the editor emphatically replied.
"He has, indeed," the Colonel's voice sank to tenderness. "He has,
indeed," he added to himself, as though he could not quite understand
it. "But, Amos, she needs a man of broader calibre--you know she does!
They weren't ever seriously in love with each other, anyhow!--don't
interrupt me again!--I tell you they weren't! Just because their dear
mothers expressed a wish for them to marry, you, and those two little
old maids out there, got to sentimentalizing over it until the poor
children were hypnotized. Why, confound it, I call them lucky to have
escaped! I wonder, by the way," he added thoughtfully, "if this Doctor
What's-his-name talks English, or the jargon in which that clipping is
printed! He'll have a stupid time here in Hillsdale, that's all I've got
to say."
Mr. Strong laughed outright.
"You're mighty cock-sure about him and Marian!"
"Because I don't admit being a pig-headed old fool," the Colonel
grinned. "If ever invisible words were written between lines of a
letter, they're there in your hand! He's asked her, to a certainty; and
she has either said yes, or intends to! Wait for the next mail! The
little vixen is just preparing us--see if I ain't right! Now, read the
other, Amos," he added gently.
The clipping was a long one, being a list of men in the American Army
who had been recommended for the _Croix de Guerre_, and, among the many,
he read:
"'Soldier Jebediah Tumpson, for going through a heavy barrage to search
for a wounded platoon leader, and after two hours under constant fire
bringing him back in safety.'"
"What's that thing they want to give him?" the Colonel asked, after they
had been silent with their own thoughts for several moments. There was a
huskiness in his voice that suggested another approach of tears.
"_Croix de Guerre_," Mr. Strong coughed and answered. "It means the
Cross of War."
"Then why the devil didn't you say Cross of War, Amos," he demanded,
trying valiantly to hide his emotion. "What's the sense of using words
that sound like a dog fight!--g-r-r-r-r!--Croix de G-r-r-r-r,
indeed!--when you know how to say it in decent American English!"
The editor smiled understandingly, and again they relapsed into
meditation; their hearts beating happily, the Colonel's stout boot
tapping contentedly upon the oaken floor.
"Amos," he shouted, springing at last to his feet, "there's no damned
German army ever recruited can stand before our boys when we get good
and mad!"
Mr. Strong arose and closed his roll-top desk with a bang. Laying a hand
on his friend's shoulder, he said:
"You're damn right! Now get your overcoat----"
"Pouf! I don't need any overcoat!" the Colonel cried disdainfully,
feeling himself warmed by the old spirit of 1861, which had been fanned
into a comforting glow by the new spirit of 1917.
"Yes, you do, Roger, for I heard you coughing only yesterday!--and you
remember what I promised Marian!"
"I will, if you put on your muffler, Amos!"
"Oh, very well. But what I started to say is, that--while I don't make a
practice of it--I think we're entitled to go to the hotel for a
small--er-a! Then we'll walk out Main street, and take this good news to
the little aunts!"
"And some flowers, Amos! Tulips, if we can find any--a big bunch of
'em!"
THE END
* * * * *
Of all the charming books that may come forth this year, none will be
more welcome than
GEORGINA'S
SERVICE STARS
By Annie Fellows Johnston
TO BE PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER 1st
In it will be found a new story of beloved Georgina whose Rainbow
adventures led into her tenth year. Now she is older--sweet sixteen, if
you please--and Richard, her playmate of childhood days, is a grown man
of seventeen--and as devoted as ever. Of course he got into the great
war enough to give Georgina a second star to her service flag; her
father, being a famous surgeon, his star is rightfully at the top. But
watch out for Richard! (Beautifully illustrated. $1.35 net.)
AS USUAL--FOR ALL THE FAMILY
+-------------------------------------------------+
| GEORGINA of the |
| RAINBOWS |
|Now selling in beautiful popular edition, 60 cts.|
+-------------------------------------------------+
* * * * *
He has written another one--and it is as good as his famous book "Laugh
and Live"
MAKING LIFE WORTH WHILE
--that the title of _Douglas Fairbanks'_ new book to be published in
early autumn
It is written in his own inimitable style--another book of inspiration
for people of all ages and either sex--a new vein of optimistic cheer
for us mortals of a war-worn world--another message from the man who
knows how to keep himself happy and well, and who is willing to pass his
recipe on to others.
_His book makes for Success Everybody will want it_
12mo.--Beautifully Illustrated with 16 New Photographic Duotones
Cloth, $1.00 Khaki, $1.00
Leather, $2.00 Ooze, $2.50
To be published September 1
* * * * *
Over the Seas for Uncle Sam
By ELAINE STERNE,
Author of "The Road of Ambition"
Miss Sterne is Senior Lieutenant of the Navy League Honor Guard, which
has charge of entertainment and visitation in behalf of sick and wounded
sailors sent home for hospital treatment. Their experiences, such as may
be published at this time, now appear in book form. This book brings out
many thrilling adventures that have occurred in the war zone of the high
seas--and has official sanction. Miss Sterne's descriptive powers are
equaled by few. She has the dramatic touch which compels interest. Her
book, which contains many photographic scenes, will be warmly welcomed
in navy circles, and particularly by those in active service.
Cloth Illuminated Jacket $1.35 Net
* * * * *
Ambulancing on the French Front
By EDWARD P. COYLE
Here is a collection of intensely interesting episodes related by a
Young American who served as a volunteer with the French Army--Red Cross
Division. His book is to the field of mercy what those of Empey, Holmes
and Peat have been in describing the vicissitudes of army life. The
author spent ten months in ambulance work on the Verdun firing line.
What he saw and did is recounted with most graphic clearness. This book
contains many illustrations photographed on the spot showing with vivid
exactitude the terrors of rescue work under the fire of the big guns.
Cloth 16 Full page Illustrations $1.35 Net
Britton Publishing Company New York