"A thousand reasons took them over. Some of them went because they had to, some of them because they wanted to. Some of them dramatized themselves as heroes and hoped for an opportunity to demonstrate their courage. Some of them were scared stiff, but went because of their consciences, some of them wanted to fight and some of them didn't, but whatever the reason, _they went_. And now they are back, and it is much more important to know what they think now about war than what they thought about it when they were enlisted or drafted. If their baptism of fire has made them hate cruelty and injustice, if it has opened their eyes to the dangers of a dreaming idealism which refuses to see evil until evil has had its way, if it has made them swear to purge America of the things which has made Germany the slimy crawling enemy of the universe, if they have come back feeling that God is in His Heaven but that things can't be right with the world until we come to think in terms of personal as well as of national righteousness--if they have come back thus illumined, then we can concede to them their great adventure. But if they have come back to forget that democracy is on trial, that we have talked of it to other nations and do not know it ourselves, if they have come back to let injustice or ignorance rule--then they had better have died on the fields of France----" He stopped suddenly amid a startled silence. Not a sound from any of them. "I beg your pardon," he laughed a bit awkwardly, "I didn't mean to preach a sermon." "Don't spoil it, _please_," Aunt Claudia begged brokenly; "I wish more men would speak out." "May I say this, then, before I stop? The future of our country is in the hands of the men who fought in France. On them must descend the mantles of our great men, Washington, Lincoln, Roosevelt--we must walk with these spirits if we love America----" "Do you wonder," Randy said, under his breath to Becky, "that his men fought, and that they died for him?" She found her little handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "He's a--perfect--darling," she whispered, and could say no more. Dalton was for the time eclipsed. He knew it and was not at ease. He was glad when Mrs. Paine stood up. "I am sorry to tear myself away. But I must. I can't be sure that Susie has made up the morning rolls. There's a camp-meeting at Jessica, and she's lost the little mind that she usually puts on her cooking." Randy and the Major went with her in the low carriage, with Rosalind making good time towards the home stable, and with Nellie Custis following with flapping ears. Dalton stayed on. The Judge urged him. "It's too lovely to go in," he said; "what's your hurry?"