"It is just as she says," he thought, as he walked homeward. "If my country were attacked, or if our flag were in danger, then it would be the duty of every man to rush to the front. But now--why, when it comes to fighting on land, we'll just have another walkover like the battle of Manila Bay." He stepped briskly down the hill toward his home. "What a bright girl Miss Northcote is, and how thankful she must be that her teaching is almost over for the year. Though she never admits it, she must find teaching very tiresome." Pamela was glad, indeed, that her school tasks were over in season to give her a week or two for special study, as she was anxious to do her very best in the work that she had chosen at Radcliffe this year. The two courses would count toward her post-graduate degree. Strangely enough, a few days before the examination she had a chance to put her own theories of duty into practice. A telegram from Vermont told her that her aunt had been thrown from a carriage and seriously injured, and that in her moments of delirium she was constantly calling for her. It took Pamela but a few moments to decide, and packing a small trunk she was ready for the evening train North. "My examinations can wait until next year," she replied to Julia's expostulations; "and even if they could not, this is really the only thing for me to do." Though for many years her relatives had been far from sympathetic, Pamela recalled the days of her childhood, when they offered her a home, and when in a clumsy way they had tried to make her happy. Knowing how her uncle had depended on his wife, she could not bear to think of his helplessness, and to help him became at once her nearest duty. Thus it happened that when Philip a few days later came again to the Mansion for counsel, he found Pamela gone. Julia, too, happened to be out, and Brenda, with whom he talked, was so downcast that he was obliged to put himself in the most cheerful frame of mind to assure her that there was not the least danger of actual fighting. "Why, before you know it, they'll all come marching home, and there'll be processions and speeches and all the things that conquering heroes expect--" "They won't be conquering heroes if they haven't done any fighting." "Don't interrupt; and you can throw a wreath at Arthur's feet." "I wasn't thinking of Arthur." "Excuse me, but I think that you were; and then, well--and then they will live happy ever after." "Philip Blair, you are too absurd. Conquering heroes and wreaths, indeed!" But Philip's nonsense had made Brenda smile, and for the time she was decidedly more cheerful. When Mr. and Mrs. Barlow went down to Rockley, Brenda had simply refused to go. When they told her that she would suffer in town from the heat, she replied that she did not care, she hoped, indeed, that she would suffer, and concluded by saying emphatically that she was tired of being a mere idler.