Mrs. Armstrong evaded the question by changing the subject.  She decided she must be more careful in hiding her feelings when her landlord was about.  She had had no idea that he could be so observing; certainly he did not look it.

But her resolution was a little late.  Jed had made up his mind that something was troubling his fair tenant.  Again and again, now that he was coming to know her better and better, he had noticed the worn, anxious look on her face, and once before the day of the clock repairing he had seen her when it seemed to him that she had been crying.  He did not mention his observations or inferences to any one, even Captain Sam, but he was sure he was right.  Mrs. Armstrong was worried and anxious and he did not like the idea.  He wished he might help her, but of course he could not.  Another man, a normal man, one not looked upon by a portion of the community as “town crank,” might have been able to help, might have known how to offer his services and perhaps have them accepted, but not he, not Jedidah Edgar Wilfred Winslow.  But he wished he could.  She had asked him to consider her a real friend, and to Jed, who had so few, a friend was a possession holy and precious.

Meanwhile the war was tightening its grip upon Orham as upon every city, town and hamlet in the land.  At first it had been a thing to read about in the papers, to cheer for, to keep the flags flying.  But it had been far off, unreal.  Then came the volunteering, and after that the draft, and the reality drew a little nearer.  Work upon the aviation camp at East Harniss had actually begun.  The office buildings were up and the sheds for the workmen.  They were erecting frames for the barracks, so Gabriel Bearse reported.  The sight of a uniform in Orham streets was no longer such a novelty as to bring the population, old and young, to doors and windows.  Miss Maud Hunniwell laughingly confided to Jed that she was beginning to have hopes, real hopes, of seeing genuine gold lace some day soon.

Captain Sam, her father, was busy.  Sessions of the Exemption Board were not quite as frequent as at first, but the captain declared them frequent enough.  And volunteering went on steadily here and there among young blood which, having drawn a low number in the draft, was too impatient for active service to wait its turn.  Gustavus Howes, bookkeeper at the bank, was one example.  Captain Sam told Jed about it on one of his calls.

“Yep,” he said, “Gus has gone, cleared out yesterday afternoon.  Goin’ to one of the trainin’ camps to try to learn to be an officer.  Eh?  What did I say to him?  Why, I couldn’t say nothin’, could I, but ‘Hurrah’ and ‘God bless you’?  But it’s leavin’ a bad hole in the bank just the same.”

Jed asked if the bank had any one in view to fill that hole.  Captain Sam looked doubtful.