explanation and expostulation on his part to keep out of jail. It tickled the town to death, and John has not been nearly so voluble since. "Yes, there's a great change come over our spirit, and I would give a good deal to know just what was done, what became of Max, what he was planning, and how they got him." What became of Max, what he had planned, how they got him, was known to only one person in Sabinsport. Offhand you would have said that that was the last person to keep a secret, for it was Katie Flaherty. Since Mikey's death, the real occupation of Katie Flaherty's life had been hate of the race that she now considered her personal enemy. Dick had sometimes chided her for this bitterness. "God forgive us all, Mr. Dick," she would say, "I have been saying we ought to love everybody. Take the Jews, now. See how they have gone into the war, how loyal they are to the United States. I tell the boys we ought not to lay it up against them any longer that they are Jews. But a German, Mr. Dick, that's different. He won't salute the flag. And look at the things they do--sinking the ships like they did. Think of all our grand, lovely young men drowned in the sea--the dirty Germans--sticking a ship in the ribs in the night. I can't stand it to think of 'em dead. I'm that foolish about the boys, I can't see one in the streets I don't cry, old fool I am. I won't never go to another parade, Mr. Dick. You'd been that ashamed of me if you'd seen me at camp when they came marching up the field, the thousands of 'em, the grandest boys you ever seen. I couldn't see for cryin' and it wasn't still cryin' I did. I did it out loud--but nobody laughed, only a strange man patted me on the back and a woman went white and said, 'Stop it!' fierce like, 'Stop it!' so I came home. I'll never go to another parade. "And to think the Germans have the heart to kill 'em--boys like ours. I'm fer drivin' 'em out of the country. They're all spies. There's the butcher over on the South Side, Johann he calls himself. Think of that Johann in the United States--a regular old German, talkin' about the 'faterland'--can't say it in English." "Come, now," Dick said to her once. "Johann has been in this country for forty years." "What's that, Mr. Dick? They're all the same; you can't make Americans out of 'em." She developed a suspicion of strangers that was almost a mania, and was forever watching for evidence of intrigue. One morning she came in to serve Dick's coffee, with a big envelope in her hand. She was handling it gingerly as if it was something that might explode. With great solemnity she opened it. "Look here, Mr. Dick. It's a spy I found. I'm sure of it." Out of her envelope, she pulled a big red valentine, and dramatically turned the back to him. On it was written in bold black letters the words, "Don't buy a Liberty Bond. The Kaiser says so."