"Well, then," I says, getting up to leave, "go on ahead and act neighborly to them, the once, and decide later about keeping it up, as you would with anybody else." It kind of swept over me--here we were, standing there, bickering and haggling, when out there on the planet that lay around Daphne Street were loose ends of creation to catch up and knit in. "My gracious," I says, "I ain't saying they're all all right, am I? But I'm saying that as fast as those that try to grow, stick up their heads, it's the business of us that tootle for democracy, and for evolution, to help them on." She looked at me, pitying. "It's all so much bigger than that, Calliope," she says. "True," says I, "for if some of them stick up their heads, it proves that more of them could--if we didn't stomp 'em down." I got out in the air of the great, gold May day, that was like another way of life, leading up from our way. I took in a long breath of it--and that always helps me to see things big. "One Spring," I says, "One world--one God--one life--one future. Wouldn't you think we could match ourselves up?" But when I got in my little house, I looked around on the homely inside of it--that always helps me to think how much better things can be, when we really know how. And I says: "Oh, God, we here in America got up a terrible question for you to help us settle, didn't we? Well, _help_ us! And help us to see, whatever's the way to settle anything, that giving the cold shoulder and the uplifted nose to any of the creatures you've made ain't the way to settle _nothing_. Amen." Next morning I was standing in my door-way, breathing in the fresh, gold air, when in at the gate came that colored man of Mis' Fernandez's, and he had a big bouquet of roses. Not roses like we in the village often see. They were green-house bred. "Mis' Fernandez's son done come home las' night and brung 'em," says the man. "Her son," I says, "from college?" "No'm," says the man. "F'om the war." "From the what?" I says. "F'om the war," he says over. "F'om U'pe." He must have thought I was crazy. For a minute I stared at him, then I says "Glory be!" and I began to laugh. Then I told him to tell Mis' Fernandez that I'd be over in half an hour to thank her myself for the flowers, and in half an hour I was going up to her front door. I had to make sure. "Your son," I says, forgetting all about the roses, "he's in the American army?" "He was," she said. "He fought in France for eighteen months. Now he has been discharged." "Oh," I says to myself, "that arranges everything. It must." "Perhaps you will let me tell you," she said. "He comes back to us wearing the cross of war." "The cross of war!" I cried. "That they give when folks save folks in battle?" I said it just like saving folks is the principal business of it all. "My son did save a wounded officer in No-man's land," she told me. "The officer--he was a white man."