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existence by the sudden stillness.

ā€œEngland declared war on Germany today,ā€ said Jack Elliott slowly. ā€œThe news came by wire just as I left town.ā€

ā€œGod help us,ā€ whispered Gertrude Oliver under her breath. ā€œMy dreamā€” my dream! The first wave has broken.ā€ She looked at Allan Daly and tried to smile.

ā€œIs this Armageddon?ā€ she asked.

ā€œI am afraid so,ā€ he said gravely.

A chorus of exclamations had arisen round themā€”light surprise and idle interest for the most part. Few there realized the import of the message ā€”fewer still realized that it meant anything to them. Before long the dancing was on again and the hum of pleasure was as loud as ever. Gertrude and Allan Daly talked the news over in low, troubled tones. Walter Blythe had turned pale and left the room. Outside he met Jem, hurrying up the rock steps.

ā€œHave you heard the news, Jem?ā€

ā€œYes. The Piper has come. Hurrah! I knew England wouldnā€™t leave France in the lurch. Iā€™ve been trying to get Captain Josiah to hoist the flag but he says it isnā€™t the proper caper till sunrise. Jack says theyā€™ll be calling for volunteers tomorrow.ā€

ā€œWhat a fuss to make over nothing,ā€ said Mary Vance disdainfully as Jem dashed off. She was sitting out with Miller Douglas on a lobster trap which was not only an unromantic but an uncomfortable seat. But Mary and Miller were both supremely happy on it. Miller Douglas was a big, strapping, uncouth lad, who thought Mary Vanceā€™s tongue uncommonly gifted and Mary Vanceā€™s white eyes stars of the first magnitude; and neither of them had the least inkling why Jem Blythe wanted to hoist the lighthouse flag. ā€œWhat does it matter if thereā€™s going to be a war over there in Europe? Iā€™m sure it doesnā€™t concern us.ā€

Walter looked at her and had one of his odd visitations of prophecy.

ā€œBefore this war is over,ā€ he saidā€”or something said through his lips ā€”ā€œevery man and woman and child in Canada will feel itā€”you, Mary, will feel itā€”feel it to your heartā€™s core. You will weep tears of blood over it. The Piper has comeā€”and he will pipe until every corner of the world has heard his awful and irresistible music. It will be years before the dance of death is overā€”years, Mary. And in those years millions of hearts will break.ā€

ā€œFancy now!ā€ said Mary who always said that when she couldnā€™t think of anything else to say. She didnā€™t know what Walter meant but she felt uncomfortable. Walter Blythe was always saying odd things. That old Piper of hisā€”she hadnā€™t heard anything about him since their playdays in Rainbow Valleyā€”and now here he was bobbing up again. She didnā€™t like it, and that was the long and short of it.

ā€œArenā€™t you painting it rather strong, Walter?ā€ asked Harvey Crawford, coming up just then. ā€œThis war wonā€™t last for yearsā€”itā€™ll be over in a month or two. England will just wipe Germany off the map in no time.ā€

ā€œDo you think a war for which Germany has been preparing for twenty years will be over in a few weeks?ā€ said Walter passionately. ā€œThis isnā€™t a paltry struggle in a Balkan corner, Harvey. It is a death grapple. Germany comes to conquer or to die. And do you know what will happen if she conquers? Canada will be a German colony.ā€

ā€œWell, I guess a few things will happen before that,ā€ said Harvey shrugging his shoulders. ā€œThe British navy would have to be licked for one; and for another, Miller here, now, and I, weā€™d raise a dust, wouldnā€™t we, Miller? No Germans need apply for this old country, eh?ā€

Harvey ran down the steps laughing.

ā€œI declare, I think all you boys talk the craziest stuff,ā€ said Mary Vance in disgust. She got up and dragged Miller off to the rock-shore. It didnā€™t happen often that they had a chance for a talk together; Mary was determined that this one shouldnā€™t be spoiled by Walter Blytheā€™s silly blather about Pipers and Germans and such like absurd things. They left Walter standing alone on the rock steps, looking out over the beauty of Four Winds with brooding eyes that saw it not.

The best of the evening was over for Rilla, too. Ever since Jack Elliottā€™s announcement, she had sensed that Kenneth was no longer thinking about her. She felt suddenly lonely and unhappy. It was worse than if he had never noticed her at all. Was life like thisā€”something delightful happening and then, just as you were revelling in it, slipping away from you? Rilla told herself pathetically that she felt years older than when she had left home that evening. Perhaps she didā€” perhaps she was. Who knows? It does not do to laugh at the pangs of youth. They are very terrible because youth has not yet learned that ā€œthis, too, will pass away.ā€ Rilla sighed and wished she were home, in bed, crying into her pillow.

ā€œTired?ā€ said Kenneth, gently but absentlyā€”oh, so absently. He really didnā€™t care a bit whether she were tired or not, she thought.

ā€œKenneth,ā€ she ventured timidly, ā€œyou donā€™t think this war will matter much to us in Canada, do you?ā€

ā€œMatter? Of course it will matter to the lucky fellows who will be able to take a hand. I wonā€™tā€”thanks to this confounded ankle. Rotten luck, I call it.ā€

ā€œI donā€™t see why we should fight Englandā€™s battles,ā€ cried Rilla. ā€œSheā€™s quite able to fight them herself.ā€

ā€œThat isnā€™t the point. We are part of the British Empire. Itā€™s a family affair. Weā€™ve got to stand by each other. The worst of it is, it will be over before I can be of any use.ā€

ā€œDo you mean that you would really volunteer to go if it wasnā€™t for your ankle? asked Rilla incredulously.

ā€œSure I would. You see theyā€™ll go by thousands. Jemā€™ll be off, Iā€™ll bet a centā€”Walter wonā€™t be strong enough yet, I suppose. And Jerry Meredithā€”heā€™ll go! And I was worrying about being out of football this year!ā€

Rilla was too startled to say anything. Jemā€”and Jerry! Nonsense! Why father and Mr. Meredith wouldnā€™t allow it. They werenā€™t through college. Oh, why hadnā€™t Jack Elliott kept his horrid news to himself?

Mark Warren came up and asked her to dance. Rilla went, knowing Kenneth didnā€™t care whether she went or stayed. An hour ago on the sandshore he had been looking at her as if she were the only being of any importance in the world. And now she was nobody. His thoughts were full of this Great Game which was to be played out on bloodstained fields with empires for stakesā€”a Game in which womenkind could have no part. Women, thought Rilla miserably, just had to sit and cry at home. But all this was foolishness. Kenneth couldnā€™t goā€”he admitted that himselfā€” and Walter couldnā€™tā€”thank goodness for thatā€”and Jem and Jerry would have more sense. She wouldnā€™t worryā€”she would enjoy herself. But how awkward Mark Warren was! How he bungled his steps! Why, for mercyā€™s sake, did boys try to dance who didnā€™t know the first thing about dancing; and who had feet as big as boats? There, he had bumped her into somebody! She would never dance with him again!

She danced with others, though the zest was gone out of the performance and she had begun to realize that her slippers hurt her badly. Kenneth seemed to have goneā€”at least nothing was to be seen of him. Her first party was spoiled, though it had seemed so beautiful at one time. Her head achedā€”her toes burned. And worse was yet to come. She had gone down with some over-harbour friends to the rock-shore where they all lingered as dance after dance went on above them. It was cool and pleasant and they were tired. Rilla sat silent, taking no part in the gay conversation. She was glad when someone called down that the over-harbour boats were leaving. A laughing scramble up the lighthouse rock followed. A few couples still whirled about in the pavilion but the crowd had thinned out. Rilla looked about her for the Glen group. She could not see one of them. She ran into the lighthouse. Still, no sign of anybody. In dismay she ran to the rock steps, down which the over-harbour guests were hurrying. She could see the boats belowā€”where was Jemā€™sā€”where was Joeā€™s?

ā€œWhy, Rilla Blythe, I thought youā€™d be gone home long ago,ā€ said Mary Vance, who was waving her scarf at a boat skimming up the channel, skippered by Miller Douglas.

ā€œWhere are the rest?ā€ gasped Rilla.

ā€œWhy, theyā€™re goneā€”Jem went an hour agoā€”Una had a headache. And the rest went with Joe about fifteen minutes ago. Seeā€”theyā€™re just going around Birch Point. I didnā€™t go because itā€™s getting rough and I knew Iā€™d be seasick. I donā€™t mind walking home from here. Itā€™s only a mile and a half. I sā€™posed youā€™d gone. Where were you?ā€

ā€œDown on the rocks with Jem and Mollie Crawford. Oh, why didnā€™t they look for me?ā€

ā€œThey didā€”but you couldnā€™t be found. Then they concluded you must have gone in the other boat. Donā€™t worry. You can stay all night with me and weā€™ll ā€˜phone up to Ingleside where you are.ā€

Rilla realized that there was nothing else to do. Her lips trembled and tears came into her eyes. She blinked savagelyā€”she would not let Mary Vance see her crying. But to be forgotten like this! To think nobody had thought it worth while to make sure where she wasā€”not even Walter. Then she had a sudden dismayed recollection.

ā€œMy shoes,ā€ she exclaimed. ā€œI left them in the boat.ā€

ā€œWell, I never,ā€ said Mary. ā€œYouā€™re the most thoughtless kid I ever saw. Youā€™ll have to ask Hazel Lewison to lend you a pair of shoes.ā€

ā€œI wonā€™t.ā€ cried Rilla, who didnā€™t like the said Hazel. ā€œIā€™ll go barefoot first.ā€

Mary shrugged her shoulders.

ā€œJust as you like. Pride must suffer pain. Itā€™ll teach you to be more careful. Well, letā€™s hike.ā€

Accordingly they hiked. But to ā€œhikeā€ along a deep-rutted, pebbly lane in frail, silver-hued slippers with high French heels, is not an exhilarating performance. Rilla managed to limp and totter along until they reached the harbour road; but she could go no farther in those detestable slippers. She took them and her dear silk stockings off and started barefoot. That was not pleasant either; her feet were very tender and the pebbles and ruts of the road hurt them. Her blistered heels smarted. But physical pain was almost forgotten in the sting of humiliation. This was a nice predicament! If Kenneth Ford could see her now, limping along like a little girl with a stone bruise! Oh, what a horrid way for her lovely party to end! She just had to cryā€”it was too terrible. Nobody cared for herā€”nobody bothered about her at all. Well, if she caught cold from walking home barefoot on a dew-wet road and went into a decline perhaps they would be sorry. She furtively wiped her tears away with her scarfā€”handkerchiefs seemed to have vanished like shoes!ā€”but she could not help sniffling. Worse and worse!

ā€œYouā€™ve got a cold, I see,ā€ said Mary. ā€œYou ought to have known you would, sitting down in the wind on those rocks. Your mother wonā€™t let you go out again in a hurry I can tell you. Itā€™s certainly been something of a party. The Lewisons know how to do things, Iā€™ll say that for them, though Hazel Lewison is no choice of mine. My, how black she looked when she saw you dancing with Ken Ford. And so did that little hussy of an Ethel Reese. What a flirt he is!ā€

ā€œI donā€™t think heā€™s a flirt,ā€ said Rilla as defiantly as two desperate sniffs would let her.

ā€œYouā€™ll know more about men when youā€™re as old as

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