The Major [151]
of these pro-Ally. Just be patient and give the rest of us time. Americans will not stand for the bully," added Raeder, putting his hand on Larry's shoulder. "You hear me, my boy. Now I am going in to see the boss. He thinks the same way, too, but he does not say much out loud."
New hope and courage came into Larry's heart as he listened to the pronouncement of this clear-headed, virile young American. Oh, if America would only say out loud what Raeder had been saying, how it would tone up the spirit of the Allies! A moral vindication of their cause from America would be worth many an army corps.
The morning brought him another and unexpected breeze of cheer in the person of Dean Wakeham straight from Alberta and the Lakeside Farm. A little before lunch he walked in upon Larry, who was driving himself to his work that he might forget. It was a veritable breath from home for Larry, for Dean was one who carried not only news but atmosphere as well. He was a great, warm-hearted boy, packed with human energies of body, heart and soul.
"Wait till I say good-morning to father," he said after he had shaken hands warmly with Larry. "I will be back then in a minute or two."
But in a few minutes Mr. Wakeham appeared and called Larry to him. "Come in, boy, and hear the news," he said.
Larry went in and found Dean in the full tide of a torrential outpouring of passionate and enthusiastic, at times incoherent, tales of the Canadians, of their spirit, of their sacrifice and devotion in their hour of tragedy.
"Go on, Dean," said Raeder, who was listening with face and eyes aglow.
"Go on? I cannot stop. Never have I come up against anything like what is going on over there in Canada. Not in one spot, either, but everywhere; not in one home, but in every home; not in one class, but in every class. In Calgary during the recruiting I saw a mob of men in from the ranches, from the C. P. R. shops, from the mines, from the offices, fighting mad to get their names down. My God! I had to go away or I would have had mine in too. The women, too, are all the same. No man is getting under his wife's skirts. You know old Mrs. Ross, Larry, an old Scotch woman up there with four sons. Well, her eldest son could not wait for the Canadian contingent, but went off with Jack Romayne and joined the Black Watch. He was in that Le Cateau fight. Oh, why don't these stupid British tell the people something about that great fighting retreat from Mons to the Marne? Well, at Le Cateau poor Hec Ross in a glorious charge got his. His Colonel wrote the old lady about it. I never saw such a letter; there never was one like it. I motored Mrs. Gwynne, your mother, Larry, over to see her. Say, men, to see those two women and to hear them! There were no tears, but a kind of exaltation. Your mother, Larry, is as bad, as good, I mean, as any of them now. I heard that old Scotch woman say to your mother in that Scotch voice of hers, 'Misthress Gwynne, I dinna grudge my boy. I wouldna hae him back.' Her youngest son is off with the Canadians. As she said good-bye to us I heard her say to your mother, 'I hae gi'en twa sons, Misthress Gwynne, an' if they're wanted, there's twa mair.' My God! I found myself blubbering like a child. It sounds all mad and furious, but believe me, there is not much noise, no hurrahing. They know they are up against a deadly serious business, and that is getting clearer every minute. Did you see that the Government had offered one hundred and fifty thousand men now, and more if wanted? And all classes are the same. That little Welch preacher at Wolf Willow--Rhye, his name is, isn't it? By George, you should hear him flaming in the pulpit. He's the limit. There won't be a man in that parish will dare hold back. He will just have to go to war or quit the church. And it is the same all over. The churches are a mighty force in Canada, you know, even a political force. I have been going to church every Sunday, Father, this last year. Believe me, God is some real Person to those people, and
New hope and courage came into Larry's heart as he listened to the pronouncement of this clear-headed, virile young American. Oh, if America would only say out loud what Raeder had been saying, how it would tone up the spirit of the Allies! A moral vindication of their cause from America would be worth many an army corps.
The morning brought him another and unexpected breeze of cheer in the person of Dean Wakeham straight from Alberta and the Lakeside Farm. A little before lunch he walked in upon Larry, who was driving himself to his work that he might forget. It was a veritable breath from home for Larry, for Dean was one who carried not only news but atmosphere as well. He was a great, warm-hearted boy, packed with human energies of body, heart and soul.
"Wait till I say good-morning to father," he said after he had shaken hands warmly with Larry. "I will be back then in a minute or two."
But in a few minutes Mr. Wakeham appeared and called Larry to him. "Come in, boy, and hear the news," he said.
Larry went in and found Dean in the full tide of a torrential outpouring of passionate and enthusiastic, at times incoherent, tales of the Canadians, of their spirit, of their sacrifice and devotion in their hour of tragedy.
"Go on, Dean," said Raeder, who was listening with face and eyes aglow.
"Go on? I cannot stop. Never have I come up against anything like what is going on over there in Canada. Not in one spot, either, but everywhere; not in one home, but in every home; not in one class, but in every class. In Calgary during the recruiting I saw a mob of men in from the ranches, from the C. P. R. shops, from the mines, from the offices, fighting mad to get their names down. My God! I had to go away or I would have had mine in too. The women, too, are all the same. No man is getting under his wife's skirts. You know old Mrs. Ross, Larry, an old Scotch woman up there with four sons. Well, her eldest son could not wait for the Canadian contingent, but went off with Jack Romayne and joined the Black Watch. He was in that Le Cateau fight. Oh, why don't these stupid British tell the people something about that great fighting retreat from Mons to the Marne? Well, at Le Cateau poor Hec Ross in a glorious charge got his. His Colonel wrote the old lady about it. I never saw such a letter; there never was one like it. I motored Mrs. Gwynne, your mother, Larry, over to see her. Say, men, to see those two women and to hear them! There were no tears, but a kind of exaltation. Your mother, Larry, is as bad, as good, I mean, as any of them now. I heard that old Scotch woman say to your mother in that Scotch voice of hers, 'Misthress Gwynne, I dinna grudge my boy. I wouldna hae him back.' Her youngest son is off with the Canadians. As she said good-bye to us I heard her say to your mother, 'I hae gi'en twa sons, Misthress Gwynne, an' if they're wanted, there's twa mair.' My God! I found myself blubbering like a child. It sounds all mad and furious, but believe me, there is not much noise, no hurrahing. They know they are up against a deadly serious business, and that is getting clearer every minute. Did you see that the Government had offered one hundred and fifty thousand men now, and more if wanted? And all classes are the same. That little Welch preacher at Wolf Willow--Rhye, his name is, isn't it? By George, you should hear him flaming in the pulpit. He's the limit. There won't be a man in that parish will dare hold back. He will just have to go to war or quit the church. And it is the same all over. The churches are a mighty force in Canada, you know, even a political force. I have been going to church every Sunday, Father, this last year. Believe me, God is some real Person to those people, and