"Yes, John planted that and fussed over it," said his mother with pride as she slipped unaccustomedly out of the car to the sidewalk. "I'm very glad to have met you and it was most kind of you to bring me home. To tell the truth"--with a roguish smile that reminded Ruth of her son's grin--"I was so weak and trembling with saying good-bye and trying to keep up so John wouldn't know it, that I didn't know how I was to get home. Though I'm afraid I was a bit discourteous. I couldn't bear the thought of talking to a stranger just then. But you haven't been like a stranger--knowing him, and all----" "Oh, thank you!" said Ruth, "it's been so pleasant. Do you know, I don't believe I ever realized what an awful thing the war is till I saw those people down at the station this morning saying good-bye. I never realized either what a useless thing I am. I haven't even anybody very dear to send. I can only knit." "Well, that's a good deal. Some of us haven't time to do that. I never have a minute." "You don't need to, you've given your son," said Ruth flashing a glance of glorified understanding at the woman. A beautiful smile came out on the tired sorrowful face. "Yes, I've given him," she said, "but I'm hoping God will give him back again some day. Do you think that's too much to hope. He is such a good boy!" "Of course not," said Ruth sharply with a sudden sting of apprehension in her soul. And then she remembered that she had no very intimate acquaintance with God. She wished she might be on speaking terms, at least, and she would go and present a plea for this lonely woman. If it were only Captain La Rue, her favorite cousin, or even the President, she might consider it. But God! She shuddered. Didn't God let this awful war be? Why did He do it? She had never thought much about God before. "I wish you would let me come to see you sometime and take you for another ride," she said sweetly. "It would be beautiful!" said the older woman, "if you would care to take the time from your own friends." "I would love to have you for one of my friends," said the girl gracefully. The woman smiled wistfully. "I'm only here holidays and evenings," she conceded, "I'm doing some government work now." "I shall come," said Ruth brightly. "I've enjoyed you ever so much." Then she started her car and whirled away into the sunshine. "She won't come, of course," said the woman to herself as she stood looking mournfully after the car, reluctant to go into the empty house. "I wish she would! Isn't she just like a flower! How wonderful it would be if things had been different, and there hadn't been any war, and my boy could have had her for a friend! Oh!" * * * * * Down at the Club House the women waited for the fair young member who had charge of the wool. They rallied her joyously as she hurried in, suddenly aware that she had kept them all waiting.