Berkley shook his head, and they went to the windows; below them surged the flood of dead wood driven before the oncoming waves--haggard men, ragged men, small boys, darkies, Bowery b'hoys, stray red-shirted firemen, then the police, then solid double ranks of drums battered by flashing, brass-bound drumsticks, then line after line of blue and steel, steadily flowing through the streets and away, away into the unknown. "How young they are!" muttered Farren, the gray-haired cashier, standing behind Stephen's shoulders. "God bless me, they're children!" "It's a Vermont regiment," said Berkley; "they're filing out of the Park Barracks. What a lot of hawk-nosed, hatchet-faced, turkey-necked cow milkers!--all heroes, too, Steve. You can tell that because they're in uniform and carry guns." Stephen watched the lank troops, fascinated by the long, silent, almost gliding stride of officers and men loaded down with knapsack, blanket, and canteen, their caps pushed high on their red and sweating foreheads. There was a halt; big hands, big red knuckles, big feet, and the delicate curve of the hawk's beak outlining every Yankee nose, queer, humourous, restless glances sweeping Gotham streets and windows where Gotham crowded to gaze back at the halted youngsters in blue; then a far tenor cry, nasal commands, thin voices penetrating from out of the crowded distance; a sudden steadying of ranks; the level flash of shouldered steel; a thousand men marking time; and at last the drums' quick outbreak; and the 1st Vermont Infantry passed onward into the unknown. "I'd rather like to go there--to see what there is there," observed Berkley. "Where?" "Where they're going--wherever that may be--and I think I know." He glanced absently at his letter again. "I've sold some stock--all I had, and I've made a lot of money," he said listlessly. Stephen dropped an impulsive hand on his shoulder. "I'm terribly glad, Berkley! I'm delighted!" he said with a warmth that brought a slight colour into Berkley's face. "That's nice of you, Stephen. It solves the immediate problem of how to go there." "Go where?" "Why--where all our bright young men are going, old fellow," said Berkley, laughing. "I can go with a regiment or I can go alone. But I really must be starting." "You mean to enlist?" "Yes, it can be done that way, too. Or--other ways. The main thing is to get momentum. . . . I think I'll just step out and say good-bye and many thanks to your father. I shall be quite busy for the rest of my career." "You are not leaving here?" "I am. But I'll pay my rent first," said Berkley, laughing. And go he did that very afternoon; and the office of Craig & Son knew him no more. A few days later Ailsa Paige returned to New York and reoccupied her own house on London Terrace.