"Yes, Aussie was killed in Italy, flying. Will Arden was wounded in the Argonne. George Jennings died of the flu in Paris--see that big blonde over there, Dave? She's the Village dressmaker now--Dark Dale is in Russia--can't get out. Putty Doane was taken prisoner by the Germans at--Oh, see that gang of up-towners--aren't they snippy and patronizing and silly? But Molly Fearing is our best war sensation. You know what a tiny frightened mouse of a thing she was. She went into the 'Y.' She was in the trenches the day of the Armistice--_talked_ with Germans; not prisoners, you understand--but the retreating Germans. Her letters are wonderful. She's crazy about it over there. I wouldn't be surprised if she never came back-- Oh, Dave, don't look now; but as soon as you can, get that tall red-headed girl in the corner, Marie Maroo. She does the most marvelous drawings you ever saw. She belongs to that new Vortex School. And then Joel-- Oh, there's Ernestine Phillips and her father. You want to meet her father. He's a riot. Octogenarian, too! He's just come from some remote hamlet in Vermont. Ernestine's showing him a properly expurgated edition of the Village. Hi, Ernestine! He's a Civil War veteran. Ernest's crazy to see you, Dave!" The middle-aged, rather rough-featured woman standing in the doorway turned at Gratia's call. Her movement revealed the head and shoulders of a tall, gaunt, very old man, a little rough-featured like his daughter; white-haired and white-mustached. She hurried at once to Lindsay's table. "Oh, Dave!" She took both Lindsay's hands. "I _am_ glad to see you! How I have worried about you! My father, Dave. Father, this is David Lindsay, the young aviator I was telling you about, who had such extraordinary experiences in France. You remember the one I mean, father. He served for two years with the French Army before we declared war." Mr. Phillips extended a long arm which dangled a long hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir! You're the first flier I've had a chance to talk with. I expect folks make life a perfect misery to you--but if you don't mind answering questions--" "Shoot!" Lindsay permitted serenely. "I'm nearly bursting with suppressed information. How are you, Ernestine?" "Pretty frazzled like the rest of us," Ernestine answered. Ernestine had one fine feature; a pair of large dark serene eyes. Now they flamed with a troubled fire. "The war did all kinds of things to my psychology, of course. I suppose I am the most despised woman in the Village at this moment because I don't seem to be either a militarist or a pacifist. I don't believe in war, but I don't see how we could have kept out of it; or how France could have prevented it."