He smiled then, and put out his hand--the one hand that he'd come back with. And from somewhere in the crowd, Jeffro's wife got to the car, and got the door open, and leaned there beside him. And we all waited a minute--but one minute was the very best we could do. Then everybody came pressing up round the car to shake his hand. And I slipped back to the bugler we had, and I says: "Blow! Blow the loudest you ever blew in your life. _Blow!_" He blew a blast, silver clear, golden clear, sunlight clear. And I sent him through the crowd, blowing, and making a path right up to the automobile. Then I signed to the children, and I had them come down that open aisle. And they came singing, all together, the song they had sung behind the thicket. And they pressed close around the car, singing still: "Don't you wish we had a place Where only bright things are, Like the things we dream about, And like a star?" And there they came to meet him--Art and Science and Plenty and Beauty and Friendship--Friendship. I don't know whether he understood what they said. I don't know whether he understood the meaning of what they carried--for Jeffro wasn't quite sure of our language all the time. But, oh, he couldn't misunderstand the spirit of that time or of those folks. He got to his feet, Jeffro did, his face kind of still and solemn. And just then Mis' Silas Sykes, in a black dress, without a scrap of red or blue about her, stepped up to him, her face fair grief-struck. And she says: "Oh, Mr. Jeffro. The D. A. R., and the G. A. R., and the W. R. C. was to welcome you back from the glories of war. And here you've took us unbeknownst." He looked round at us--and this is what I'll never forget--not if I live till my dying day: "The glories of war!" he says over. "The glories of war! You do not know what you say! I tell you that I have seen mad dogs, mad beasts of prey--but I do not know what it is they do. The glories of war! Oh, my God, does nobody know that we are all mad together?" Jeffro's wife tried to quiet him, but he shook her off. "Listen," he said. "I have gone to war and lived through hell to learn one thing. I gif it to you: _Life is something else than what we think it is._ That is true. _Life is something else than what we think it is._ When we find it out, we shall stop this devil's madness." Just then a little cry came from somewhere over back in the road. "My papa! It _is_ my papa!" it said. And there came running Joseph, that had heard his father's voice, and that we had forgot' all about. We let him through the crowd, and he climbed up in the car, and his father took him in his one arm. And there they sat, with the globe that Joseph carried, the world that he carried, in beside them.