"Grandfather, I am a Methodist, not a Friend. I know some of our people think with you about war, but others are like Ferguson, whom you call a good man. I must go, to show my father that I can; I must keep my religion, yet fight bravely beside him. Don't you think I ought to go? Don't you think Canada is in the right?" The Quaker looked at him wistfully. Ned was nineteen, and careful rearing, and the habits of self-discipline that his rigid faith taught him, had given both his body and mind the strength of tempered steel. Dr. Brown had planned he should be a healer of wounds and a saver of life, like himself, and now all this splendid young manhood must be offered to the Moloch of war. But he said--"In many ways I admire thy father, but he is over-hasty in judgment; yet I am free to think he does right in fighting in this war, and certainly thee must go as he says. I know thee will never forsake the rules of thy faith." * * * Ned, wandering off by himself to say good-bye to his old life, was amazed, in his loneliness, to find Bee. She also was alone; sitting on a stone, in tears. "Miss Bee," exclaimed Ned, "Are you hurt? What is the matter?" [Illustration: "Miss Bee," exclaimed Ned, "are you hurt? What is the matter?"] She stood up; a tall slender girl in a purple serge riding habit and a plumed hat; not a beauty, but fast developing into a woman who would have the elusive flaire of charm. "I came out here by myself--ran away in fact," she said impulsively. "I could not bear servants or friends or anyone near me--I had to cry alone. You are a Friend; why isn't everybody like you? Why do they make these awful wars? Do you know that Sir John has got the War Office to take him off the retired list and he is going to Canada, and Vere with him? And we think Cousin Percy is going too, and he will take Betty and me. They are going to fight, and Eli, my brother, I know, will fight too, on the other side; it is the most miserable war that ever was." "Perhaps your brother won't want to fight," said Ned trying to comfort her. "I should think many Americans would see they were in the wrong--." "You know nothing about it," she interrupted with flashing eyes. "We only hear one side here, but I know there is another. Sir John and Cousin Betty would be so angry if I said such a thing at home, and I love them--and I love Eli too." Under her breath she added, "and I am an American." She stopped, suddenly realizing her impulsiveness in confiding in a young man who was almost a stranger. "But he is one of those odd people," she thought, "who think women should preach, and rule, just like men; and that a man mustn't do anything that a woman shouldn't." So much Bee had heard, and she thought Ned's ideas must be foolish, and rather improper, but interesting. Ned said nothing, but caught her horse, which was grazing near. "Thank you," she said, rather shyly as she mounted, "for listening to me. I feel better now."