Rachel Ellis picked up the half knitted Red Cross mitten in her lap."Well, I don't know whether he's right or you are, Cap'n Lote," she said, with a sigh, "but this I do know--I wish this awful war was over and he was back home again."That remark ended the conversation.Olive resumed her own knitting, seeing it but indistinctly.Her husband did not continue his newspaper reading.Instead he rose and, saying something about cal'latin' he would go for a little walk before turning in, went out into the yard.
But the war did not end, it went on; so too did the enlisting and training.In the early summer Albert came home for a two days'
leave.He was broader and straighter and browner.His uniform became him and, more than ever, the eyes of South Harniss's youthful femininity, native or imported, followed him as he walked the village streets.But the glances were not returned, not in kind, that is.The new Fosdick home, although completed, was not occupied.Mrs.Fosdick had, that summer, decided that her duties as mover in goodness knows how many war work activities prevented her taking her "usual summer rest." Instead she and Madeline occupied a rented villa at Greenwich, Connecticut, coming into town for meetings of all sorts.Captain Zelotes had his own suspicions as to whether war work alone was the cause of the Fosdicks'
shunning of what was to have been their summer home, but he kept those suspicions to himself.Albert may have suspected also, but he, too, said nothing.The censored correspondence between Greenwich and the training camp traveled regularly, and South Harniss damsels looked and longed in vain.He saw them, he bowed to them, he even addressed them pleasantly and charmingly, but to him they were merely incidents in his walks to and from the post-office.In his mind's eye he saw but one, and she, alas, was not present in the flesh.
Then he returned to the camp where, later on, Captain Zelotes and Olive visited him.As they came away the captain and his grandson exchanged a few significant words.
"It is likely to be almost any time, Grandfather," said Albert, quietly."They are beginning to send them now, as you know by the papers, and we have had the tip that our turn will be soon.So--"Captain Lote grasped the significance of the uncompleted sentence.
"I see, Al," he answered, "I see.Well, boy, I--I-- Good luck.""Good luck, Grandfather."
That was all, that and one more handclasp.Our Anglo-Saxon inheritance descends upon us in times like these.The captain was silent for most of the ride to the railroad station.
Then followed a long, significant interval during which there were no letters from the young soldier.After this a short reassuring cablegram from "Somewhere in France." "Safe.Well," it read and Olive Snow carried it about with her, in the bosom of her gown, all that afternoon and put it upon retiring on her bureau top so that she might see it the first thing in the morning.
Another long interval, then letters, the reassuring but so tantalizingly unsatisfactory letters we American families were, just at that time, beginning to receive.Reading the newspapers now had a personal interest, a terrifying, dreadful interest.Then the packing and sending of holiday boxes, over the contents of which Olive and Rachel spent much careful planning and anxious preparation.Then another interval of more letters, letters which hinted vaguely at big things just ahead.
Then no letter for more than a month.
And then, one noon, as Captain Zelotes returned to his desk after the walk from home and dinner, Laban Keeler came in and stood beside that desk.
The captain, looking up, saw the little bookkeeper's face."What is it, Labe?" he asked, sharply.
Laban held a yellow envelope in his hand.
"It came while you were gone to dinner, Cap'n," he said."Ben Kelley fetched it from the telegraph office himself.He--he said he didn't hardly want to take it to the house.He cal'lated you'd better have it here, to read to yourself, fust.That's what he said--yes, yes--that's what 'twas, Cap'n."Slowly Captain Zelotes extended his hand for the envelope.He did not take his eyes from the bookkeeper's face.
"Ben--Ben, he told me what was in it, Cap'n Lote," faltered Laban.
"I--I don't know what to say to you, I don't--no, no."Without a word the captain took the envelope from Keeler's fingers, and tore it open.He read the words upon the form within.
Laban leaned forward.
"For the Lord sakes, Lote Snow," he cried, in a burst of agony, "why couldn't it have been some darn good-for-nothin' like me instead--instead of him? Oh, my God A'mighty, what a world this is! WHAT a world!"Still Captain Zelotes said nothing.His eyes were fixed upon the yellow sheet of paper on the desk before him.After a long minute he spoke.
"Well," he said, very slowly, "well, Labe, there goes--there goes Z.Snow and Company."
