He had it carefully wrapped and carried it downtown with him. The morning was clear, and the sun sparkled on the snow. As he passed through Dupont Circle he found that a few children and their nurses had braved the cold. One small boy in a red coat ran to Derry. "Where are you going, Cousin Derry?" "Down town." "To-day is Margaret-Mary's birf-day. I am going to give her a wabbit--." "Rabbit, Buster. You'd better say it quick. Nurse is on the way." "Rab-yit. What are you going to give her?" "Oh, must I give her something?" "Of course. Mother said you'd forget it. I wanted to telephone, and she wouldn't let me." "Would a doll do?" "I shouldn't like a doll. But she is littler. And you mustn't spend much money. Mother said I spent too much for my rab-yit. That I ought to save it for Our Men. And you mustn't eat what you yike--we've got a card in the window, and there wasn't any bacon for bref-fus." "Breakfast." "Yes. An' we had puffed rice and prunes--" Nurse, coming up, was immediately on the job. "You are getting mud on Mr. Derry's spats, Teddy. Stand up like a little gentleman." "He is always that, Nurse, isn't he? And I should not have on spats at this hour in the morning." Derry smiled to himself as he left them. He knew that Nurse did not approve of him. He had a way as it were of aiding and abetting Teddy. But as he went on the smile faded. There were many soldiers on the street, many uniforms, flags of many nations draping doorways where were housed the men from across the sea who were working shoulder to shoulder with America for the winning of the war--. Washington had taken on a new aspect. It had a waked-up look, as if its lazy days were over, and there were real things to do. The big church at the triangle showed a Red Cross banner. Within women were making bandages, knitting sweaters and socks, sewing up the long seams of shirts and pajamas. A few years ago they had worshipped a Christ among the lilies. They saw him now on the battlefield, crucified again in the cause of humanity. It seemed to Derry that even the civilians walked with something of a martial stride. Men, who for years had felt their strength sapped by the monotony of Government service, were revived by the winds of patriotism which swept from the four corners of the earth. Women who had lost youth and looks in the treadmill of Departmental life held up their heads as if their eyes beheld a new vision. Street cars were crowded, things were at sixes and sevens; red tape was loose where it should have been tight and tight where it should have been loose. Little men with the rank of officer sat in swivel chairs and tried to direct big things; big men, without rank, were tied to the trivial. Many, many things were wrong, and many, many things were right, as it is always when war comes upon a people unprepared.