“Don't be angry with him, Uncle Dawy,” pleaded the girl. “He was so excited, poor boy, he simply couldn't sit here without knowing what had happened. Besides, Hodges and two of the maids were up,--so I wasn't all alone.” She followed them into the brilliantly lighted drawing-room. “Here are the first extras. The doorman sent them up to me.” Mrs. Carstairs dropped heavily into a chair. Her face was very white. “How terrible,” she murmured, glancing at the huge headlines. “I say, Frieda,” exclaimed her husband; “it's been too much for you. A drop of brandy, my dear,--” “Nothing, thank you, Davenport. I am quite all right. The shock, you know. We were so near the place, Louise,--don't you see? Really, it was appalling.” “What beasts! What inhuman beasts they are!” cried the girl, in a sort of frenzy. “They ought to be burned alive,--burned and tortured for hours. The last extra says that the number of dead and mutilated is beyond--” “Now, now!” said Carstairs, gently. “Don't excite yourself, child. It isn't good for you. You've been too ill, my dear. Run along to bed, there's a sensible girl. We'll have all the details by tomorrow,--and, believe me, things won't be as bad as they seem tonight. It's always the case, you know. And you, too, Frieda,--get to bed. Your nerves are all shot to pieces,--and I'm not surprised. I will wait for--” A key grated in the door. “Here he is now. Hello, Alfred,--what's the latest?” His son came into the room without removing his overcoat or hat. His dark eyes, wet from the sharp wind without, sought his mother's face. “Are you all right, Mother? I've been horribly worried--thank the Lord! It's a relief to see that smile! You're all right? Sure?” He kissed his mother quickly, feverishly. She put her arm around his neck and murmured in his ear. “I am frightfully upset, of course, dear. Who wouldn't be?” He stood off and looked long and intently into her eyes. Then he straightened up and spoke to his father. “I might have known you wouldn't let anything happen to her, sir. But I was horribly worried, just the same. Those beastly shells went everywhere, they say. The Club must have been--” “Nowhere near the Club, so far as I know,” said his father cheerfully. “We were all perfectly safe. Have they made any arrests? Of course, it wasn't accidental.” “I've been downtown, around the newspaper offices,” said the young man, throwing his coat and hat on a chair. “There are all sorts of wild stories. People are talking about lynchings, and all that sort of rot. Nothing like that ever happens, though. We do a lot of talking, and that's all. It all blows over as soon as the excitement dies down. That's the trouble with us Americans.” “America will wake up one of these days, Alfred,” said his father slowly, “and when she does, there will be worse things than lynchings to talk about.”