Elliott put the words away in her memory. They made her feel like a man who has just been decorated by his general. She felt so comforted and quiet, so free from nervousness, that not even the telephone bell could make her jump. It tinkled pretty continuously, too. That was because all the next day the neighbors who didn't come in person were calling up to inquire for the returned travelers. Elliott quite lost the expectation that every time the telephone buzzed it meant a possible message for her. She had lost it so completely that when, as they were on the point of sitting down at supper, Laura said, "There's the telephone again, and my hands are full," Elliott remarked, "I'll see who it is," and took down the receiver without a thought of a cable. "This is Elliott Cameron speaking.... Yes--yes. Elliott Cameron. All ready." A tremor crept into the girl's voice. "I didn't get that.... Just received my message? Yes, go on.... Repeat, please.... Wait a minute till I call some one." She wheeled from the instrument, her face alight. "Where's Bruce? Please, somebody, call--oh, here you are!" She thrust the receiver into his hands. "Make them repeat the message to you. It's from Father. Pete was a prisoner. He's escaped and got back to our lines." Then she slipped into Aunt Jessica's waiting arms. Supper? Who cared about supper? The Camerons forgot it. When they remembered, the steaming-hot creamed potato was cold and the salad was wilted, but that made no difference. They were too excited to know what they were eating. To make assurance trebly sure there were more messages. Bob cabled of Pete's escape through the Hun lines and the government wired from Washington. The Camerons' happiness spilled over into blithe exuberance. They laughed and danced and sang for very joy. Priscilla jigged all over the house like an excited brown leaf in a breeze. None of them, except Father Bob, Mother Jess, and Laura, could keep still. Laura went about like a person in a trance, with a strange, happy quietness in her ordinarily energetic movements and a brightness in her face that dazzled. There was no boisterousness in any one's rejoicing, only a gentleness of gaiety that was very wonderful to see and feel.