There was more plaudits, and then Nathalie, with grave seriousness, said: “Girls, now that we have pledged ourselves not only as a club, but as individuals, to further the cause of liberty, I would suggest that our watchword be, ‘Liberty and humanity—our best.’ Humanity means to be helpful and kind to our neighbors, our best means to work with a strenuous will to do everything we can to that end. Our neighbors at the present moment loom very large and big as the needy and suffering ones overseas, as the sick, the wounded, the dying, the prisoners, the refugees, and all those who are fighting on land and sea: yes, and those in the air, and all those who are helping to care for the ones I have mentioned, as the doctors and nurses, for they, too, all need help. If we can’t fight, we have got to help those who are fighting in our stead. Yes,” she added solemnly, “and we must be prepared even to have the desire to do what we can for our enemies, for as liberty makes no discrimination as to who shall enjoy it, so in the doing of humane acts we should remember all.” As Nathalie, highly elated by the enthusiasm shown by her audience, stood waiting for quietness, suddenly her eyes rested on little lame Marie Katzkamof, whose big black eyes shone like two stars from her pale, sallow face. Nathalie had another inspiration. She bent forward and in a low, earnest voice cried, “Do you think, little Marie, that you would enjoy being a member of this club? Wouldn’t you like to do something—yes, _your best_—to help the poor refugees in France and Belgium, and the brave soldier boys who are fighting, so that the whole world can enjoy liberty?” “Yiss, ma’am; I have a glad on liberty,” the girl giggled nervously, “but it’s like this mit me, I likes I shure I don’t make you no trouble.” “But it won’t be any trouble to us, Marie,” answered Nathalie with a smile. “We will all help you; humanity means to help others.” “But, Missis Page,” the girl’s face was scarlet, her big eyes mournful. “It’s like this mit me, I ain’t stylish like these young ladies; I make nottings mit them, for I ain’t shmardt, hein? Und this leg it ain’t yet so healthy. Und, Missis Page, I’m lovin’ mit liberty, but I ain’t lovin’ much mit Krisht, for I’m a Jewess.” Nathalie faltered a moment, for she had seen a smile creep into the eyes of the girls, which she knew would become a laugh if she did not say the right thing. “Yes, you may not love Christ, as we Christians,” she answered quickly, “but if you love the liberty, perhaps you may learn to know what it means to love Him. And then, Marie, that will make no difference, for as long as you want to help the suffering ones, and show humanity, that makes you an American, no matter who, or what you are.”