She
thought a trifle better of her country.
The Austrian prima donna fainted and could not appear in the last
act, and everybody went home expecting to see the vigor of Uncle Sam
displayed in a swift and tremendous delivery of a blow long, long
withheld.
The vigor was displayed in a tremendous delivery of words far better
withheld.
It was a week before Congress agreed that war existed and over a
month passed before Congress agreed upon the nature of the army to
be raised. Nearly four months passed before the draft was made.
Jim Dyckman was almost glad of the delay, for it gave him hope
of settling his spiritual affairs in time to be a soldier. He was
determined to marry Charity as soon as the three months' probation
term was over. But Charity said no! Cowering in seclusion from the
eyes of her world, she cherished a dream that when the war broke and
the dead began to topple and the wounded to bleed, she might expiate
the crime she had not committed, by devoting to her own people her
practised mercies. She was afraid to offer them now, or even to make
her appearance among the multitudinous associations that sprang up
everywhere in a frantic effort to make America ready in two weeks
for a war that had been inevitable for two years. Not only a war
was to be fought, but a world famine.
Charity was ashamed to show her white face even at the Red Cross.
She busied herself with writing checks for the snow-storm of appeals
that choked her mail.
Pages:
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665