The war which wise folk augured at its beginning, would be over in a few days dragged its weary length into the months, and though for a time there were many and cheerful letters, these ceased suddenly at the last, giving place to one brief telegram from Honoria: "Mother, my work here is ended. I am bringing home your heroes--four." Upon the hearth-rug, Kitty the younger, lay stretched at her ease, toying with the sharp nose of her favorite collie. She had the Sun Maid's own fairness of tint and the same wonderful hair; but her eyes were dark as her grandsire Gaspar's and saw many things which they appeared not to see; for instance, that one of the numerous telegrams her busy grandmother was always receiving had been read and dropped upon the floor. Yet this was a common circumstance, and though she felt it her duty to rise and return the yellow paper to the hand which had held it, she delayed a moment, enjoying the warmth and ease. Then Bruce, the collie, sat up and whined,--dolefully, and so humanly, it seemed, that the girl also sprang up, demanding: "Why, Bruce, old doggie, what do you hear? What makes you look so queer?" Then her own gaze followed the collie's to her grandmother's face and her scream echoed through all the house. "Grandmother! My darling Grandmother! Are you--are you dead--dying--what----" She picked up the telegram and read it, and her own happy young heart faltered in its rhythm. "Oh! awful! 'Bringing'--those precious ones who cannot come of themselves. This will kill her. I believe it will kill even me." But it did neither. After a space the rigidity left the Sun Maid's figure and her staring eyes that had been gazing upon vacancy resumed intelligence. Rising stiffly from her seat, she put the younger Kit aside, yet very gently and tenderly, because of all her race this was the dearest. Had not the child Gaspar's eyes? "My girl, you will know what to do. I am going to my chamber, and must be undisturbed." Then she passed out of the cheerful library into that "mother's room," where her husband and her sons had gathered about her so often and so fondly and in which she had bestowed upon each her farewell and especial blessing. As the portiere fell behind her it seemed to her that already they came hurrying to greet her, and softly closing the door she shut herself in from all the world with them and her own grief. For the first time in all her life the Sun Maid considered her own self before another; and for hours she remained deaf to young Kitty's pleading: "Let me come in, Grandmother. Let me come in. I am as alone as you--it was my father, too, as well as your son!" It was the dawn of another day before the door did open and the mourner came out. Mourner? One could hardly call her that; for, though the beautiful face was colorless and the eyes heavy with unshed tears, there was a rapt, exalted look upon it which awed the grandchild into silence. Yet for the first time she was startled by the thought: