"
"Oh, those French names," groaned Susan.
"They tell me the Germans has about ruined the church there," sighed
Cousin Sophia. "I always thought the Germans was Christians."
"A church is bad enough but their doings in Belgium are far worse," said
Susan grimly. "When I heard the doctor reading about them bayonetting
the babies, Mrs. Dr. dear, I just thought, 'Oh, what if it were our
little Jem!' I was stirring the soup when that thought came to me and I
just felt that if I could have lifted that saucepan full of that boiling
soup and thrown it at the Kaiser I would not have lived in vain."
"Tomorrow--tomorrow--will bring the news that the Germans are in
Paris," said Gertrude Oliver, through her tense lips. She had one of
those souls that are always tied to the stake, burning in the suffering
of the world around them. Apart from her own personal interest in the
war, she was racked by the thought of Paris falling into the ruthless
hands of the hordes who had burned Louvain and ruined the wonder of
Rheims.
But on the morrow and the next morrow came the news of the miracle of
the Marne. Rilla rushed madly home from the office waving the Enterprise
with its big red headlines. Susan ran out with trembling hands to hoist
the flag. The doctor stalked about muttering "Thank God." Mrs. Blythe
cried and laughed and cried again.
"God just put out His hand and touched them--'thus far--no farther',"
said Mr.
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