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Jekyll, sitting in golden majesty on the top step. And of course they were all talking of the war, except Dr. Jekyll who kept his own counsel and looked contempt as only a cat can. When two people foregathered in those days they talked of the war; and old Highland Sandy of the Harbour Head talked of it when he was alone and hurled anathemas at the Kaiser across all the acres of his farm. Walter slipped away, not caring to see or be seen, but Rilla sat down on the steps, where the garden mint was dewy and pungent. It was a very calm evening with a dim, golden afterlight irradiating the glen. She felt happier than at any time in the dreadful week that had passed. She was no longer haunted by the fear that Walter would go.

ā€œIā€™d go myself if I was twenty years younger,ā€ Norman Douglas was shouting. Norman always shouted when he was excited. ā€œIā€™d show the Kaiser a thing or two! Did I ever say there wasnā€™t a hell? Of course thereā€™s a hellā€”dozens of hellsā€”hundreds of hellsā€”where the Kaiser and all his brood are bound for.ā€

ā€œI knew this war was coming,ā€ said Mrs. Norman triumphantly. ā€œI saw it coming right along. I could have told all those stupid Englishmen what was ahead of them. I told you, John Meredith, years ago what the Kaiser was up to but you wouldnā€™t believe it. You said he would never plunge the world in war. Who was right about the Kaiser, John? Youā€”or I? Tell me that.ā€

ā€œYou were, I admit,ā€ said Mr. Meredith.

ā€œItā€™s too late to admit it now,ā€ said Mrs. Norman, shaking her head, as if to intimate that if John Meredith had admitted it sooner there might have been no war.

ā€œThank God, Englandā€™s navy is ready,ā€ said the doctor.

ā€œAmen to that,ā€ nodded Mrs. Norman. ā€œBat-blind as most of them were somebody had foresight enough to see to that.ā€

ā€œMaybe Englandā€™ll manage not to get into trouble over it,ā€ said Cousin Sophia plaintively. ā€œI dunno. But Iā€™m much afraid.ā€

ā€œOne would suppose that England was in trouble over it already, up to her neck, Sophia Crawford,ā€ said Susan. ā€œBut your ways of thinking are beyond me and always were. It is my opinion that the British Navy will settle Germany in a jiffy and that we are all getting worked up over nothing.ā€

Susan spat out the words as if she wanted to convince herself more than anybody else. She had her little store of homely philosophies to guide her through life, but she had nothing to buckler her against the thunderbolts of the week that had just passed. What had an honest, hard-working, Presbyterian old maid of Glen St. Mary to do with a war thousands of miles away? Susan felt that it was indecent that she should have to be disturbed by it.

ā€œThe British army will settle Germany,ā€ shouted Norman. ā€œJust wait till it gets into line and the Kaiser will find that real war is a different thing from parading round Berlin with your moustaches cocked up.ā€

ā€œBritain hasnā€™t got an army,ā€ said Mrs. Norman emphatically. ā€œYou neednā€™t glare at me, Norman. Glaring wonā€™t make soldiers out of timothy stalks. A hundred thousand men will just be a mouthful for Germanyā€™s millions.ā€

ā€œThereā€™ll be some tough chewing in the mouthful, I reckon,ā€ persisted Norman valiantly. ā€œGermanyā€™ll break her teeth on it. Donā€™t you tell me one Britisher isnā€™t a match for ten foreigners. I could polish off a dozen of ā€˜em myself with both hands tied behind my back!ā€

ā€œI am told,ā€ said Susan, ā€œthat old Mr. Pryor does not believe in this war. I am told that he says England went into it just because she was jealous of Germany and that she did not really care in the least what happened to Belgium.ā€

ā€œI believe heā€™s been talking some such rot,ā€ said Norman. ā€œI havenā€™t heard him. When I do, Whiskers-on-the-moon wonā€™t know what happened to him. That precious relative of mine, Kitty Alec, holds forth to the same effect, I understand. Not before me, thoughā€”somehow, folks donā€™t indulge in that kind of conversation in my presence. Lord love you, theyā€™ve a kind of presentiment, so to speak, that it wouldnā€™t be healthy for their complaint.ā€

ā€œI am much afraid that this war has been sent as a punishment for our sins,ā€ said Cousin Sophia, unclasping her pale hands from her lap and reclasping them solemnly over her stomach. ā€œā€˜The world is very evilā€” the times are waxing late.ā€™ā€

ā€œParson hereā€™s got something of the same idea,ā€ chuckled Norman. ā€œHavenā€™t you, Parson? Thatā€™s why you preached tā€™other night on the text ā€˜Without shedding of blood there is no remission of sins.ā€™ I didnā€™t agree with youā€”wanted to get up in the pew and shout out that there wasnā€™t a word of sense in what you were saying, but Ellen, here, she held me down. I never have any fun sassing parsons since I got married.ā€

ā€œWithout shedding of blood there is no anything,ā€ said Mr. Meredith, in the gentle dreamy way which had an unexpected trick of convincing his hearers. ā€œEverything, it seems to me, has to be purchased by self-sacrifice. Our race has marked every step of its painful ascent with blood. And now torrents of it must flow again. No, Mrs. Crawford, I donā€™t think the war has been sent as a punishment for sin. I think it is the price humanity must pay for some blessingā€”some advance great enough to be worth the priceā€”which we may not live to see but which our childrenā€™s children will inherit.ā€

ā€œIf Jerry is killed will you feel so fine about it?ā€ demanded Norman, who had been saying things like that all his life and never could be made to see any reason why he shouldnā€™t. ā€œNow, never mind kicking me in the shins, Ellen. I want to see if Parson meant what he said or if it was just a pulpit frill.ā€

Mr. Meredithā€™s face quivered. He had had a terrible hour alone in his study on the night Jem and Jerry had gone to town. But he answered quietly.

ā€œWhatever I felt, it could not alter my beliefā€”my assurance that a country whose sons are ready to lay down their lives in her defence will win a new vision because of their sacrifice.ā€

ā€œYou do mean it, Parson. I can always tell when people mean what they say. Itā€™s a gift that was born in me. Makes me a terror to most parsons, that! But Iā€™ve never caught you yet saying anything you didnā€™t mean. Iā€™m always hoping I willā€”thatā€™s what reconciles me to going to church. Itā€™d be such a comfort to meā€”such a weapon to batter Ellen here with when she tries to civilize me. Well, Iā€™m off over the road to see Ab. Crawford a minute. The gods be good to you all.ā€

ā€œThe old pagan!ā€ muttered Susan, as Norman strode away. She did not care if Ellen Douglas did hear her. Susan could never understand why fire did not descend from heaven upon Norman Douglas when he insulted ministers the way he did. But the astonishing thing was Mr. Meredith seemed really to like his brother-in-law.

Rilla wished they would talk of something besides war. She had heard nothing else for a week and she was really a little tired of it. Now that she was relieved from her haunting fear that Walter would want to go it made her quite impatient. But she supposedā€”with a sighā€”that there would be three or four months of it yet.

CHAPTER VI SUSAN, RILLA, AND DOG MONDAY MAKE A RESOLUTION

The big living-room at Ingleside was snowed over with drifts of white cotton. Word had come from Red Cross headquarters that sheets and bandages would be required. Nan and Di and Rilla were hard at work. Mrs. Blythe and Susan were upstairs in the boysā€™ room, engaged in a more personal task. With dry, anguished eyes they were packing up Jemā€™s belongings. He must leave for Valcartier the next morning. They had been expecting the word but it was none the less dreadful when it came.

Rilla was basting the hem of a sheet for the first time in her life. When the word had come that Jem must go she had her cry out among the pines in Rainbow Valley and then she had gone to her mother.

ā€œMother, I want to do something. Iā€™m only a girlā€”I canā€™t do anything to win the warā€”but I must do something to help at home.ā€

ā€œThe cotton has come up for the sheets,ā€ said Mrs. Blythe. ā€œYou can help Nan and Di make them up. And Rilla, donā€™t you think you could organize a Junior Red Cross among the young girls? I think they would like it better and do better work by themselves than if mixed up with the older people.ā€

ā€œBut, motherā€”Iā€™ve never done anything like that.ā€

ā€œWe will all have to do a great many things in the months ahead of us that we have never done before, Rilla.ā€

ā€œWellā€ā€”Rilla took the plungeā€”ā€œIā€™ll try, motherā€”if youā€™ll tell me how to begin. I have been thinking it all over and I have decided that I must be as brave and heroic and unselfish as I can possibly be.ā€

Mrs. Blythe did not smile at Rillaā€™s italics. Perhaps she did not feel like smiling or perhaps she detected a real grain of serious purpose behind Rillaā€™s romantic pose. So here was Rilla hemming sheets and organizing a Junior Red Cross in her thoughts as she hemmed; moreover, she was enjoying itā€”the organizing that is, not the hemming. It was interesting and Rilla discovered a certain aptitude in herself for it that surprised her. Who would be president? Not she. The older girls would not like that. Irene Howard? No, somehow Irene was not quite as popular as she deserved to be. Marjorie Drew? No, Marjorie hadnā€™t enough backbone. She was too prone to agree with the last speaker. Betty Meadā€” calm, capable, tactful Bettyā€”the very one! And Una Meredith for treasurer; and, if they were very insistent, they might make her, Rilla, secretary. As for the various committees, they must be chosen after the Juniors were organized, but Rilla knew just who should be put on which. They would meet aroundā€”and there must be no eatsā€”Rilla knew she would have a pitched battle with Olive Kirk over thatā€”and everything should be strictly businesslike and constitutional. Her minute book should be covered in white with a Red Cross on the coverā€”and wouldnā€™t it be nice to have some kind of uniform which they could all wear at the concerts they would have to get up to raise moneyā€”something simple but smart?

ā€œYou have basted the top hem of that sheet on one side and the bottom hem on the other,ā€ said Di.

Rilla picked out her stitches and reflected that she hated sewing. Running the Junior Reds would be much more interesting.

Mrs. Blythe was saying upstairs, ā€œSusan, do you remember that first day Jem lifted up his little arms to me and called me ā€˜moā€™erā€™ā€”the very first word he ever tried to say?ā€

ā€œYou could not mention anything about that blessed baby that I do not and will not remember till my dying day,ā€ said Susan drearily.

ā€œSusan, I keep thinking today of once when he cried for me in the night. He was just a few months old. Gilbert didnā€™t want me to go to himā€”he said the child was well and warm and that it would be fostering bad habits in him. But I wentā€”and took him upā€”I can feel that tight clinging of his little arms round my neck yet. Susan, if I hadnā€™t gone that night, twenty-one years ago, and taken my baby up when he cried for me I couldnā€™t face tomorrow morning.ā€

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