“It wouldn’t make any difference if I had only one man relative in the world,” declared Ada, heroically. “I should be proud to send him to the war, even if I knew positively he would be killed the next month. We ought to glory in making sacrifices. Think what the English and French have done. My aunt, who is doing war work in England, says there is scarcely a family that hasn’t lost at least one member. Oh, I wish those horrid Germans were all----” Ada checked herself abruptly, for Miss Minton was still within hearing distance. Every face grew grave. This idea of sacrifice for their country was a new one to most of them. So far, Margaret May was the only girl at Miss Minton’s to whom war had meant anything more than a name. But now---- Even Angel’s bright smile faded, as she suddenly remembered that her father, whom she adored, was still a young man. Was it possible that fathers as well as brothers might be called upon to join the colors? “I can’t help being glad my brothers are little boys,” said Molly Chester, with a catch in her voice. “Father’s nearly fifty, so of course he’s too old. I’m afraid I’m selfish, but it is a great comfort.” “Both my brothers will go,” said Olive Gerard, quietly. “I am glad to have them, but of course it’s going to be hard for Mother and me.” Olive was seventeen; a tall girl, with a sweet face, and gentle gray eyes. She was a great favorite with the younger pupils, who all looked up to her and admired her very much, and instinctively both Amy and Angel drew a little closer to her, and Amy slipped a trembling hand into hers. “I wish I could be brave,” she whispered, “but I know I am an awful coward. Jack always told me I was a coward, because I was afraid of snakes, and mice, and horrid creeping things, but, oh, it’s so terrible to think of having people we love go away to be killed or wounded! I’m afraid I can never be brave enough to bear it as I ought.” “Oh, yes, you will,” said Olive, smiling; “we shall all learn to be brave. Think of how brave the English and French women have been. An English friend of my mother’s wrote that all her three boys were at the front, and that, hard as it was to part from them, there was one thing that would have been much harder, and that would have been if they hadn’t wanted to go.” “Oh, Jack wants to go,” cried Amy, with shining eyes. “He’s been wanting to for more than a year.” And, suddenly she was conscious of a sensation of pride in her big, handsome brother, that, with all her love for him, she had never felt before. “Where are you going, Gretel?” Geraldine Barlow inquired, as they all moved off in the direction of the big gymnasium. “To Fräulein’s room,” Gretel answered. “I think I’ll see if there is anything I can do for her. She said she had a headache.” Geraldine looked troubled. She was a year younger than Gretel, whom she liked very much, but she had never been quite able to understand her friend’s intimacy with the German teacher.