Gretel was crying softly when she went up-stairs, leaving Dora to have a few last words with her brother. She was very quiet at dinner, although Percy and Barbara did their best to make her first evening at home a pleasant one. She could not banish the vision of Peter’s bright, confident young face. She had never before thought of freckled, red-haired Peter Grubb without a smile, but to-night her old playmate had suddenly appeared in the character of a hero. How many brave young heroes there were, all going, like Peter, with light, confident hearts, “to lick the Germans.” They would not all come back. It was a very hot, sultry evening, and they sat in the drawing-room with all the windows open, chatting pleasantly, but always with that strange, new undercurrent of sadness. Once the silence of the quiet street was broken by the shrill cry of an Extra. Mr. Douaine bought the paper, which told of a German victory, and of a long list of casualties. By and by Mr. Douaine asked for some music, and his wife went to the piano. For a few moments her fingers wandered idly over the keys, and then she began to play. At the first notes Gretel’s heart gave a great bound, and the grateful tears started to her eyes. Barbara was playing her father’s Sonata, and Gretel knew that it was for her sake. “How good she is,” the girl said to herself; “oh, how good she and Percy have always been to me!” Later, Gretel took her turn at the piano, and as usual, forgot everything else in the music she loved, but when she had kissed her brother and his wife good-night, and found Dora waiting for her in her room, she remembered Peter again, and the troubled look came back to her eyes. Dora’s own eyes were red, but she was smiling proudly. “Didn’t the kid look fine?” she inquired eagerly, as she unfastened Gretel’s dress. “Yes, indeed he did,” responded Gretel, heartily; “I don’t wonder you are proud of him, Dora. He looks years older than when I saw him last Christmas. Do you think he realizes what it all means? He is so young, you know.” “Yes, Miss, I think he does,” said Dora, with unusual gravity. “He doesn’t talk much about such things--boys don’t, you know--but just the last minute before he left, he kissed me, a thing he hasn’t done since he was a little fellow, and said, ‘If I shouldn’t ever come back, Dora, you’ll take care of Mother, won’t you?’ He said it so serious, and there was a look on his face that most broke my heart to see, but I was proud of him all the same.” Gretel fell asleep thinking of Peter, and awoke with a start, aroused by a heavy peal of thunder. The storm, which had been threatening all the evening, had broken at last, and rain was pouring in torrents. Gretel sat up in bed, shaking from head to foot. Then came a bright flash of lightning, followed by another peal of thunder, and she lay down again, with a sigh of relief.