The Major [157]
Frank Smart."
"Frank Smart! Oh! his poor mother! My God, this war is awful and grows more awful every day."
"Jane says Mrs. Smart is at every meeting of the Women's Association, quiet and steady, just like our Kathleen. Oh, Larry, how can they do it? If my husband--if I had one--were killed I could not, I just could not, bear it."
"I fancy, little girl, you would measure up like the others. This is a damnable business, but we never knew our women till now. But the sooner that cursed race is wiped off the face of the earth the better."
"Why, Larry, is that you? I cannot believe my ears."
"Yes, it is me. I have come to see that there is no possibility of peace or sanity for the world till that race of mad militarists is destroyed. I am still a pacifist, but, thank God, no longer a fool. Is there no other news from Jane?"
"Did you hear about Ramsay Dunn? Oh, he did splendidly. He was wounded; got a cross or something."
"Did you know that Mr. Murray had organised a battalion and is Lieutenant-Colonel and that Doctor Brown is organising a Field Ambulance unit and going out in command?"
"Oh, that is settled, is it? Jane told me it was possible."
"Yes, and perhaps Jane and Ethel Murray will go with the Ambulance Unit. Oh, Larry, is there any way I might go? I could do so much-- drive a car, an ambulance, wash, scrub, carry despatches, anything."
"By Jove, you would be a good one!" exclaimed her brother. "I would like to have you in my company."
"Couldn't it be worked in any possible way?" cried Nora.
But Larry made no reply. He knew well that no reply was needed. What was her duty this splendid girl would do, whether in Flanders or in Alberta.
At the door of their home the mother met them. As her eyes fell upon her son in his khaki uniform she gave a little cry and ran to him with arms uplifted.
"Come right in here," she whispered, and took him to the inner room. There she drew him to the bedside and down upon his knees. With their arms about each other they knelt, mingling tears and sobs together till their strength was done. Then through the sobs the boy heard her voice. "You gave him to me," he heard her whisper, not in her ordinary manner of reverent formal prayer, but as if remonstrating with a friend. "You know you gave him to me and I gave him back.--I know he is not mine.--But won't you let me have him for a little while?--It will not be so very long.--Yes, yes, I know.--I am not holding him back.--No, no, I could not, I would not do that.--Oh, I would not.--What am I better than the others?--But you will give him back to me again.--There are so many never coming back, and I have only one boy.--You will let him come back.--He is my baby boy.--It is his mother asking."
Larry could bear it no longer. "Oh, mother, mother, mother," he cried. "You are breaking my heart. You are breaking my heart." His sobs were shaking the bed on which he leaned.
His mother lifted her head. "What is it, Lawrence, my boy?" she asked in surprise. "What is it?" Her voice was calm and steady. "We must be steadfast, my boy. We must not grudge our offering. No, with willing hearts we must bring our sacrifice." She passed into prayer. "Thou, who didst give Thy Son, Thine only Son, to save Thy world, aid me to give mine to save our world to-day. Let the vision of the Cross make us both strong. Thou Cross-bearer, help us to bear our cross." With a voice that never faltered, she poured forth her prayer of sacrifice, of thanksgiving, of supplication, till serene, steady, triumphant, they arose from their knees. She was heard "in that she feared," in her surrender she found victory, in her cross, peace. And that serene calm of hers remained undisturbed to the very last.
There were tears again at the parting, but the tears fell gently, and through them shone ever her smile.
A few short days Larry spent at his home moving about among those that were dearer to him than his own life, wondering the while at their courage and patience and power to sacrifice. In his father
"Frank Smart! Oh! his poor mother! My God, this war is awful and grows more awful every day."
"Jane says Mrs. Smart is at every meeting of the Women's Association, quiet and steady, just like our Kathleen. Oh, Larry, how can they do it? If my husband--if I had one--were killed I could not, I just could not, bear it."
"I fancy, little girl, you would measure up like the others. This is a damnable business, but we never knew our women till now. But the sooner that cursed race is wiped off the face of the earth the better."
"Why, Larry, is that you? I cannot believe my ears."
"Yes, it is me. I have come to see that there is no possibility of peace or sanity for the world till that race of mad militarists is destroyed. I am still a pacifist, but, thank God, no longer a fool. Is there no other news from Jane?"
"Did you hear about Ramsay Dunn? Oh, he did splendidly. He was wounded; got a cross or something."
"Did you know that Mr. Murray had organised a battalion and is Lieutenant-Colonel and that Doctor Brown is organising a Field Ambulance unit and going out in command?"
"Oh, that is settled, is it? Jane told me it was possible."
"Yes, and perhaps Jane and Ethel Murray will go with the Ambulance Unit. Oh, Larry, is there any way I might go? I could do so much-- drive a car, an ambulance, wash, scrub, carry despatches, anything."
"By Jove, you would be a good one!" exclaimed her brother. "I would like to have you in my company."
"Couldn't it be worked in any possible way?" cried Nora.
But Larry made no reply. He knew well that no reply was needed. What was her duty this splendid girl would do, whether in Flanders or in Alberta.
At the door of their home the mother met them. As her eyes fell upon her son in his khaki uniform she gave a little cry and ran to him with arms uplifted.
"Come right in here," she whispered, and took him to the inner room. There she drew him to the bedside and down upon his knees. With their arms about each other they knelt, mingling tears and sobs together till their strength was done. Then through the sobs the boy heard her voice. "You gave him to me," he heard her whisper, not in her ordinary manner of reverent formal prayer, but as if remonstrating with a friend. "You know you gave him to me and I gave him back.--I know he is not mine.--But won't you let me have him for a little while?--It will not be so very long.--Yes, yes, I know.--I am not holding him back.--No, no, I could not, I would not do that.--Oh, I would not.--What am I better than the others?--But you will give him back to me again.--There are so many never coming back, and I have only one boy.--You will let him come back.--He is my baby boy.--It is his mother asking."
Larry could bear it no longer. "Oh, mother, mother, mother," he cried. "You are breaking my heart. You are breaking my heart." His sobs were shaking the bed on which he leaned.
His mother lifted her head. "What is it, Lawrence, my boy?" she asked in surprise. "What is it?" Her voice was calm and steady. "We must be steadfast, my boy. We must not grudge our offering. No, with willing hearts we must bring our sacrifice." She passed into prayer. "Thou, who didst give Thy Son, Thine only Son, to save Thy world, aid me to give mine to save our world to-day. Let the vision of the Cross make us both strong. Thou Cross-bearer, help us to bear our cross." With a voice that never faltered, she poured forth her prayer of sacrifice, of thanksgiving, of supplication, till serene, steady, triumphant, they arose from their knees. She was heard "in that she feared," in her surrender she found victory, in her cross, peace. And that serene calm of hers remained undisturbed to the very last.
There were tears again at the parting, but the tears fell gently, and through them shone ever her smile.
A few short days Larry spent at his home moving about among those that were dearer to him than his own life, wondering the while at their courage and patience and power to sacrifice. In his father