“But, goodness! there are so many other men to go,” cried her mother. “And you were just saying that he was necessary to the well-being of the Hapwood-Diller Company, Ethel. Surely he will not desert us.” “The business is in very good shape again--thanks to him,” Ethel answered, trying to recover her composure. “I suppose he feels that now, at least, he can go to the officers’ training camp. And if we get along all right I just know he will go to France.” Benway whistled--low and thoughtfully. “He’s that kind of a chap, I guess,” he observed. “Goodness knows, this town is full of those who think differently. The boards had the hardest time getting their full quota for this first draft. There’s got to be a general awakening before the second call comes----” “But war is dreadful!” cried Mrs. Clayton. “It must be. But we haven’t come to a realization of it yet or we’d all be glad to try to help keep it in Europe, instead of letting it dribble over here after militarism has ruined the less prepared countries over there. This war is going to mean a good deal. The government is awfully particular about the men they take right now; but they won’t be so particular before it is all over. “Why!” cried the young fellow with a break in his voice that showed a deeper emotion, “even the Red Cross or the Y. M. C. A. won’t accept for service a fellow with a single solitary thing the matter with him!” Ethel, who had slipped down into a seat on the step beside him, suddenly patted his shoulder in a sisterly way. She knew that he had tried to serve his country under the banner of the Cross of Peace and had been refused because of his withered arm. “Heigho!” added Benway, shrugging his shoulders and swallowing his emotion, “that’s neither here nor there. Mr. Barton spoke as though he expected to leave soon, anyway. I expect Ethel, here, will pretty near be boss of those offices while he is gone. How about it, Ethel? Going to be a hard taskmaster to yours truly?” “I am afraid if Mr. Barton goes that my influence there will be curbed rather than increased,” the girl said with gravity. “No!” “Naturally Mr. Mayberry will be boss. Mr. Mayberry does not consider me as capable as does Mr. Barton.” “Jim Mayberry!” exclaimed Ben. “He’s dead in love with you, they say.” The girl’s head came up and she turned a haughty look upon her friend. “Do you consider that complimentary to me?” she demanded. “No. But complimentary to his good sense,” returned Benway. “I don’t know much about Mayberry; only that he hangs about the Bellevue too much.” “You’ve said it all,” Ethel declared, with less sternness. “I do not like Mr. Mayberry.” “All right. I shan’t like him, either, then,” said Benway cheerfully. “But, goodness, girl! you can’t blame men for falling in love with you. I wonder the whole town doesn’t tail along after you when you walk down the street.” She laughed at him then--and with him.