That, in my opinion was a good piece of work."
"Time will show if it is," said Cousin Sophia, who would have been very
indignant if anyone had told her that she would rather see Susan put to
shame as a seer, than a successful overthrow of tyranny, or even the
march of the Allies down Unter den Linden. But then the woes of the
Russian people were quite unknown to Cousin Sophia, while this
aggravating, optimistic Susan was an ever-present thorn in her side.
Just at that moment Shirley was sitting on the edge of the table in the
living-room, swinging his legs--a brown, ruddy, wholesome lad, from top
to toe, every inch of him--and saying coolly, "Mother and dad, I was
eighteen last Monday. Don't you think it's about time I joined up?"
The pale mother looked at him.
"Two of my sons have gone and one will never return. Must I give you
too, Shirley?"
The age-old cry--"Joseph is not and Simeon is not; and ye will take
Benjamin away." How the mothers of the Great War echoed the old
Patriarch's moan of so many centuries agone!
"You wouldn't have me a slacker, mother? I can get into the
flying-corps. What say, dad?"
The doctor's hands were not quite steady as he folded up the powders he
was concocting for Abbie Flagg's rheumatism. He had known this moment
was coming, yet he was not altogether prepared for it. He answered
slowly, "I won't try to hold you back from what you believe to be your
duty.
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