"What's that?" asked David in the general excitement that had arisen at a farther realization of his news. "Don't you want them to join the 'state wide' band, Major? Aren't you going to give them a chance to fly a white ribbon?" "Well, I don't know," answered the major with a judicial eye, "temperance is a quality of mind and not solely of throat. Let's depend somewhat on eradication by future education and not give the colic a start." "Don't you think it would be nice for you girls to drive down with me and take the babies some congratulations and flowers, Phoebe?" asked Mrs. Buchanan an hour later as they all lingered over the empty cups. "Will you come too, David?" "Yes," answered Phoebe, "I think it would be lovely, but you and Caroline drive down and I will walk in with David, I think. Ready, David?" And Phoebe gathered up her muff and gloves and gave her hand to the major. "David," she said after they had reached the street and were swinging along in the early twilight; and as she spoke she looked him full in the face with her gray level glance that counted whenever she chose to use it, "is it your idea--do you think it fair to ridicule Mildred about--the babies?" "Why," answered the completely floored Kildare, "I just haven't any idea on the subject. Everybody was laughing about it--and isn't it--er--a little funny?" "No," answered Phoebe emphatically, "it isn't _funny_ and if you begin to laugh everybody else will. It may hurt Milly, she is so gentle and dear, and you are their best friend. I won't have it! I won't! I'm tired, anyway, of having fun made of all the sacred things in life. All of us swing around in a silly whirl and when a woman like Mildred begins to live her life in a--er--natural way, we--ridicule! She is brave and strong and works hard; and she has the _real_ things of life and makes the sacrifices for them. While we--" "Oh, heavenly hope, Phoebe!" gasped David Kildare, "don't rub it in! I see it now--a lot of magazine stuff jogging the women up about the kids and all--and here Milly is a hero and we--the jolly fun-pokers. I've got to help 'em some way! Wish Billy Bob would sell me this last bunch; guess he would--one, anyway?" And the contrite David gazed down at Phoebe in whose upturned eyes there dawned a wealth of mirth. "David," she said, perhaps more softly than she had ever spoken to him in all the days of his pursuit, "I know--I felt sure that you felt all right about it. I couldn't bear to have you say or do--" "Now, I'll 'fess a thing to you that I didn't think wild horses could drag out of me, Phoebe. I was down there an hour ago in the back hall of that flat and Billy Bob let me hold the pair of 'em and squeeze 'em. I guess we both--just shed a few, you know, because he was so excited. Men are such slobs at times--when women don't know about it." And David winked fiercely at the early electric light that glowed warm against the winter sky.