“Don’t come, mother!” Editha called, vanishing.

Mrs. Balcom remained to reproach her husband.  “I don’t see much of anything to laugh at.”

“Well, it’s catching.  Caught it from Gearson.  I guess it won’t be much of a war, and I guess Gearson don’t think so, either.  The other fellows will back down as soon as they see we mean it.  I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.  I’m going back to bed, myself.”

* * * * *

Gearson came again next afternoon, looking pale and rather sick, but quite himself, even to his languid irony.  “I guess I’d better tell you, Editha, that I consecrated myself to your god of battles last night by pouring too many libations to him down my own throat.  But I’m all right now.  One has to carry off the excitement, somehow.”

“Promise me,” she commanded, “that you’ll never touch it again!”

“What!  Not let the cannikin clink?  Not let the soldier drink?  Well, I promise.”

“You don’t belong to yourself now; you don’t even belong to me.  You belong to your country, and you have a sacred charge to keep yourself strong and well for your country’s sake.  I have been thinking, thinking all night and all day long.”

“You look as if you had been crying a little, too,” he said, with his queer smile.

“That’s all past.  I’ve been thinking, and worshipping you.  Don’t you suppose I know all that you’ve been through, to come to this?  I’ve followed you every step from your old theories and opinions.”

“Well, you’ve had a long row to hoe.”

“And I know you’ve done this from the highest motives—­”

“Oh, there won’t be much pettifogging to do till this cruel war is—­”

“And you haven’t simply done it for my sake.  I couldn’t respect you if you had.”

“Well, then we’ll say I haven’t.  A man that hasn’t got his own respect intact wants the respect of all the other people he can corner.  But we won’t go into that.  I’m in for the thing now, and we’ve got to face our future.  My idea is that this isn’t going to be a very protracted struggle; we shall just scare the enemy to death before it comes to a fight at all.  But we must provide for contingencies, Editha.  If anything happens to me—­”

“Oh, George!” She clung to him, sobbing.

“I don’t want you to feel foolishly bound to my memory.  I should hate that, wherever I happened to be.”

“I am yours, for time and eternity—­time and eternity.”  She liked the words; they satisfied her famine for phrases.

“Well, say eternity; that’s all right; but time’s another thing; and I’m talking about time.  But there is something!  My mother!  If anything happens—­”