Wait you till the
Big Push comes in the spring and the war will be over in a jiffy."
They tried to think so, but a shadow stalked in the background of their
determined merrymaking. Walter, too, was quiet and dull, all through the
holidays. He showed Rilla a cruel, anonymous letter he had received at
Redmond--a letter far more conspicuous for malice than for patriotic
indignation.
"Nevertheless, all it says is true, Rilla."
Rilla had caught it from him and thrown it into the fire.
"There isn't one word of truth in it," she declared hotly. "Walter,
you've got morbid--as Miss Oliver says she gets when she broods too
long over one thing."
"I can't get away from it at Redmond, Rilla. The whole college is aflame
over the war. A perfectly fit fellow, of military age, who doesn't join
up is looked upon as a shirker and treated accordingly. Dr. Milne, the
English professor, who has always made a special pet of me, has two sons
in khaki; and I can feel the change in his manner towards me."
"It's not fair--you're not fit."
"Physically I am. Sound as a bell. The unfitness is in the soul and it's
a taint and a disgrace. There, don't cry, Rilla. I'm not going if that's
what you're afraid of. The Piper's music rings in my ears day and
night--but I cannot follow."
"You would break mother's heart and mine if you did," sobbed Rilla. "Oh,
Walter, one is enough for any family.
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