“'I stopped traveling and went to thinking. Poor Mr. Horton didn't live long. Now he's gone an' I haven't anybody. No, my daughtah does not care for me. Her ol' nurse lives with her--an ignorant French woman. I offered to work hard if she would send that nurse away an' take me to live with her. She wouldn't do it--no, suh! She loves that nurse an' doesn't care for me--not the snap of her fingah. I have been trying to get a chance to work for the Red Cross. My money is about gone. They say money talks but all it evah says to me is “good-by.” My daughtah's husband has offered me a small allowance, but I will not take their money--no, suh! One wants affection from her daughtah--not charily! Lordy! what a world it is an' what fools we are!' “'You've been playing ever since you were a little girl, and you're tired.' “'Yes, I'm tired. I remember how my big brother used to come an' plague me an' break my toys. That is what Death has been doing to me. Wouldn't let me alone. I reckon he saw how foolish I was. I've seen about everything but I think the grandest sight in the world would be some one who was glad to see _me_. You can't make friends an' be always on the move.' “I suppose she had come back to Paris to comb the beach for another wreck. But her beauty was gone--so was her occupation of Baby. “Often, I wonder just how the story is to end--the story of that pathetic woman who was reaping what she had sown--the harvest of the childless mother. “Well, anyhow, at last, common sense had landed in her intellect. She had never given it a chance before. Hadn't stood still long enough.” CHAPTER V. WHICH DROPS A FEW ROUNDS OF SHRAPNEL ON THE HUNS IN AMERICA Mr. Potter had got through with the gun. He rose and went to the wash basin as if intending to wash his hands. He turned suddenly as if he thought Germany were more in need of a washing. He strode toward me with a new idea gleaming in his eye and said: “Darn it, I ain't got time to wash now. These Germans claim that they are the freest people in the world, and they are right.” He thumped the table with a shut fist as he resumed his talk. “One kind of liberty thrives under the Hohenzollerns: license is the precise word for it--not liberty--license to eat and drink and be sorry- -to satisfy the appetites of the flesh. The great crowd will stand a lot of tampering with its rights if you give it a good time--a broad privilege of self-indulgence. The Germans were a great people when Bill Hohenzollern took the reins of power--good-natured, industrious, God- fearing. The young men were encouraged to found their happiness on the sands of women, wine and song. “The wine press and the beer vat are the indispensable adjuncts of Hohenzollerism. Alcohol is the balm of the mislaid conscience, the nourishment of the big-head and the pneumatic brain. These things lead to worse things. Swinish indulgence leads to the morals of the swine-yard.