At this time the country was learning an unrelished lesson from the mobilization of our militia for the Mexican border, from the performances of our brace of aeroplanes, and from the apparent doubtful efficiency of our machine-guns. Roosevelt was coming into his own and deserving much of his countrymen by his campaign for preparedness. War was in the air, but war with a country far different from iron Germany. It was a step, unperceived by most, but doubtless clearly perceived by the man in the White House, toward a day of greater preparations. Public prints were demanding that we take half a million men and sweep through Mexico, janitor-like, to effect a cleansing. The Carrizal incident lit a dangerous flame. The arrival of Germany's undersea merchant-vessel, the _Deutschland_, caused a wave of admiration for Germany's persistency and inventiveness to sweep across the country. It was a victory of a sort calculated to arouse honest admiration. The second year of the war had closed with hope, for Verdun was beyond peradventure a gigantic victory for France, and the Somme offense had offered proofs of the possibility of shoving the entrenched German hosts toward their own frontier.... Italy had heightened the hopes at Gorizia, and Rumania had enlisted with the Allies.... November saw the ending of the Presidential campaign with the re-election of Mr. Wilson. Even before this, Fabius Waite had traveled far. He was able in October, with the appearance of the German submarine U-53 off our coasts, and its entrance into the harbor of Newport. Fabius Waite struck his table a vehement blow. "It's a barefaced threat," he declared. "It's intimidation." He went on at length, and Potter chuckled inwardly. To him his father represented public opinion, and by his father he sounded it; his father was to him the pulse of the nation's thought, and that pulse was beginning to beat hotly. Potter was seeing much of Cantor, and, though there were moments when he was jealous of the man, for Potter's nature was a jealous nature, he was glad of Cantor's company. Hildegarde was never mentioned by either of them. By Potter she was never mentioned at any time, and his friends were quick to learn that mention of her in his presence was apt to cause immediate disagreeable consequences. The sound of her name had a curious effect upon him. As one hardy young man said to Hildegarde herself, "I happened to mention you to Potter Waite to-day, and he acted as if somebody had blown him out--like a lamp, you know." "Bother Potter Waite!" she said; then, after a frowning pause, she added, spitefully, "You might keep a lot better company." "Oh, Potter's mild nowadays! Hasn't been on a tear in a year. Don't know what's got into him.... Dotty about patriotism and war and aeroplanes." "Why doesn't he go across and fight, then? I _despise_ conversational courage." "He stands well with you, doesn't he?" the overbold young man said, with a laugh.