Into a hush ten thousand deep she sang, and the audience swayed as it stood, and then rolled into the chorus, lost in the huge psychical storm which that young, innocent, great voice created. McIvor reached for a chair and dropped at the girl’s side, and put his head into his hands and shuddered with emotion, complex machinery of nerves and temperament that he was. But the wonderful voice rang on. “Oh, long may it wave,” the young voice sang, and Honor shot up the flag which she held-- “Long may it wave O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” There was, perhaps, no heart in the great place so tired, so dead, that it did not lift as on wings to the words and the voice. The workers were among the shaken people before the great moment ended. The workers themselves were shaken, all but crying. “It’s for the flag, for liberty--it’s the Liberty Loan itself. Now’s the time if you love your country.” Such things the men said as they passed the paper pledges about, things such as they had never said before. And the pledges came back, filled out generously, like leaves in a gale. McIvor came to the girl as she sat, stupefied, at the back of the stage. “Once more, child. It’s the six million sure now, and we’ll get some over,” he said. “I’ve just heard about your bonds, your money--how you offered up your career for your country. And--and--” Honor, flushing, half angry at Eric who had told family secrets, forgave her brother because of that catch in McIvor’s words, and because she knew that it was not the sore throat which choked him then. “Ye’re goin’ to hae an education and a future--ye’re goin’ to learn to sing as no American ever sang before. Ye do now,” stated McIvor recklessly. “Put that thought in your pipe, and now get up, bairn, and gie ’em ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ while they’re signing away their souls. Sing it as if ye were singing the Germans out of New York harbor--as if ye were singing glory to your country and eternal peace into the universe.” With a spring she was on her feet and standing close at the edge of the platform. The orchestra, at a word, played the notes that were needed: “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” The magnificent words with their rhythm of marching armies rolled out in the fresh, tremendous tones with the new-born soul in them, with a throb in them not to be described. The voice gathered the overwrought people into one person--one person who signed pledges as they came, and rejoiced to sacrifice and to renounce for the dear country, the beloved country--great America. “In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea-- With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me. Since He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, For his truth goes marching on.”