"We have not had much to rejoice over of late and yet men were being
killed just the same. Do not let yourself slump like poor Cousin Sophia.
She said, when the word came, 'Ah, it is nothing but a rift in the
clouds. We are up this week but we will be down the next.' 'Well, Sophia
Crawford,' said I,--for I will never give in to her, Mrs. Dr. dear--
'God himself cannot make two hills without a hollow between them, as I
have heard it said, but that is no reason why we should not take the
good of the hills when we are on them.' But Cousin Sophia moaned on.
'Here is the Gallipolly expedition a failure and the Grand Duke Nicholas
sent off, and everyone knows the Czar of Rooshia is a pro-German and the
Allies have no ammunition and Bulgaria is going against us. And the end
is not yet, for England and France must be punished for their deadly
sins until they repent in sackcloth and ashes.' 'I think myself,' I
said, 'that they will do their repenting in khaki and trench mud, and it
seems to me that the Huns should have a few sins to repent of also.'
'They are instruments in the hands of the Almighty, to purge the
garner,' said Sophia. And then I got mad, Mrs. Dr. dear, and told her I
did not and never would believe that the Almighty ever took such dirty
instruments in hand for any purpose whatever, and that I did not
consider it decent for her to be using the words of Holy Writ as glibly
as she was doing in ordinary conversation.
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