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 V^y' T-i^^yvi^ 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/atdollaryearrippOOraymrich 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Ripples on the Edge of 
 THE Maelstrom 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Ripples on the Edge of 
 THE Maelstrom 
 
 By 
 ROBERT L. RAYMOND 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 MARSHALL JONES COMPANY 
 
 MDCCCCXIX 
 
■XOHANOC ^/ 
 
 Copyright, igig 
 By Marshall Jones Company 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 First Printing, October, 1919 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE^ U. 8. A. 
 
TO 
 M. M. R. 
 
 427370 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Trap-Grease 3 
 
 Settling the Peace Terms 21 
 
 Shipbuilders 47 
 
 One Hundred and Fourteen in the 
 
 Shade 73 
 
 All Quiet Along the Potomac ... 99 
 
 Munitions OF War 129 
 
 Distinguished Service 161 
 
 The Peace Bells 201 
 
 Postscript 227 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 TRAP-GREASE 
 
 GENERAL Lucius Quintus Gish had 
 a fine cavalry seat. He was '' regular 
 army," — not a West Pointer, but 
 having entered the service from civilian 
 life tw^enty years before the great war, had 
 long since outstripped all West Point offi- 
 cers in matters of military punctiliousness 
 and in the strength of his conviction as to 
 the ineffectiveness and general futility of 
 civilian life. He was a short fat little man 
 with chubby round cheeks, white hair and 
 a white moustache. 
 
 He sat erect, head a little back, his legs 
 booted and spurred, describing that arc of 
 a circle which when applied to legs is com- 
 monly known as "bow," and glared with a 
 martial eye at the men before him. 
 
 "The hour of assembling is twelve 
 o'clock," he called out in strident tones of 
 command. "An order from the President 
 
 [3] 
 
■ *•■ A't^A" -DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 * wYtht •lE>lir^d-S-ta'tcs-is the only thing which 
 will be considered an excuse for absence 
 or tardiness. I will not have either one in 
 any organization I command." 
 
 He brought his clenche^d fist down on 
 the desk before him with a bang; for the 
 scene was not in the field, and General Gish 
 was not on horseback addressing a troop 
 of cavalry. His mount was an office chair, 
 and his audience the fourteen heads of sec- 
 tions of the Camp Service Division Office 
 of the Quartermaster General. Seated in 
 the long, low-ceiled, paper-walled room of 
 one of the temporary war buildings which 
 had crowded every foot of vacant space in 
 the parks and open places of Washington, 
 about half of those present were in uniform, 
 while the others were clad in the garb com- 
 mon to peaceful business men. These last 
 fell on General Gish's tortured vision with 
 about as gratifying an effect as a colored 
 Sunday Supplement would have had upon 
 the eye of Raphael when his canvas had 
 been set to paint a Madonna. A wise and 
 great man, acting as Quartermaster General 
 of the army, had hit upon the startling dis- 
 covery that men selected for the express 
 purpose of handling strictly business mat- 
 
 [4] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 ters in business offices might be able to 
 accomplish results as well if they retained 
 their familiar identities as civilians as if 
 they were compelled to dress as majors and 
 captains. General Gish knew how to take 
 orders from those of higher rank, and when 
 the innovation was decreed had perforce 
 made gallant efforts to swallow his resent- 
 ment, which however he never succeeded 
 in getting much below his diaphragm. 
 
 All the men present had made a success 
 in their own affairs, and many had amassed 
 considerable fortunes, when the call to duty 
 caused them to leave everything behind and 
 give their time and service to their country. 
 
 A year before. General Gish had been 
 one of the oldest captains in the army, and 
 never until grim-visaged war put a pre- 
 mium on every member of our regular 
 forces had he dealt with a transaction in- 
 volving a sum larger than one thousand 
 dollars. Since our entrance into the war 
 he had been chief of the Camp Service 
 Division, 
 
 ^' He certainly is having the time of his 
 life," whispered Bob Stockdale to Tresham 
 who sat beside him, as the General pro- 
 ceeded to deliver a lecture which a batch 
 
 [5] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 of repentant recruits returning drunk and 
 disorderly from leave of absence might 
 have found appropriate. 
 
 ^^ Section heads will now make their re- 
 ports to me," said General Gish, having in 
 the course of twenty minutes exhausted a 
 somewhat limited vocabulary. 
 
 Each man stood in turn and described his 
 efforts to spin the wheels of army organiza- 
 tion, while General Gish, with his military 
 habit of instantaneous decision, interpolated 
 comments and commands which performed 
 a function similar to that of a monkey- 
 wrench dropped in the midst of delicately 
 adjusted machinery. The section heads 
 took it all in good part. They had not come 
 to Washington expecting a pleasure party. 
 Even though some agreed with Brown's 
 declaration that he would as lief be in 
 a state prison, they were willing to play 
 the new game as well as they could. Be- 
 sides, they had a hazy idea of their stand- 
 ing, and even the civilians rather suspected 
 that General Gish could put them in irons 
 without a moment's warning and without 
 the formality of a court-martial. Most of 
 them middle-aged men, accustomed to con- 
 duct their own businesses as they liked, each 
 [6] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 cherished a strong fellow feeling for the 
 traditional cat in a strange garret. 
 
 '* Garbage!" vociferated General Gish. 
 
 Mr. Jones arose and, shifting heavily 
 from one foot to the other, timorously re- 
 marked: "Well, General, I am having a 
 very bad time with Camp Gettysburg. 
 They won't make the proper separations, 
 and the contractor declares he won't pay 
 for what he doesn't get." 
 
 General Gish's eyes flashed fire. "The 
 contractor refuses to pay on an army con- 
 tract? " he bellowed. 
 
 "But he says he doesn't owe anything," 
 ventured Mr. Jones, "and I think there's 
 some merit in his contention." 
 
 General Gish looked at Mr. Jones malevo- 
 lently. "That contractor must be made an 
 example of," he announced. " I won't have 
 this division laughed at. Mr. Stockdale, 
 as head of the legal section I want you to 
 take this matter up at once and see if you 
 can land this man in prison. Report to me 
 at conference tomorrow. Dismissed." 
 
 General Gish rose and with clanking 
 spurs marched from the room, followed by 
 Major Bowker, recently commissioned from 
 civilian life, whose duty it was to say 
 
 [7] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "That's so, General," when General Gish 
 spoke, and who was euphoniously described 
 by the latter as his Chief of Stafif. 
 
 " What in the devil did you let me in for 
 this for?" demanded Stockdale of Jones as 
 the section heads filed out from their daily 
 hour in the torture chamber. 
 
 Jones mopped a somewhat fevered brow 
 with his handkerchief. " I let you in? " he 
 queried, with pardonable indignation. " I 
 let you in? Why I had n't started my story 
 when that old — However, I'll turn over 
 the papers to you, and you can recommend 
 that I be sent to jail if you can't find another 
 goat." 
 
 After three hours' study of contracts and 
 a file of correspondence which ran as high 
 as the twenty-fourth endorsement, Stock- 
 dale put his head into Tresham's room, 
 which was next to his own, and demanded, 
 "What in hell is trap-grease?" 
 
 Tresham was engaged in a desperate at- 
 tempt to figure out how to establish a stand- 
 ard for shoe-repair work, when it appeared 
 that thirty men at Camp Shiloh could put 
 in perfect order five hundred pairs of shoes 
 in three days while fifty at Camp Vicksburg 
 reported a hundred of the same repaired in 
 
 [8] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 a week. It reminded him somehow of a 
 problem of school days long ago, which to 
 his exhausted mind seemed to have to do 
 with a wheel six feet in circumference 
 travelling a mile and a half and the number 
 of men it would take to do the same piece 
 of work in four days. Consequently he re- 
 peated the word '^Trap-grease?" with a 
 rising inflection and in a somewhat ab- 
 stracted manner. 
 
 "Yes, trap-grease," said Stockdale with 
 some irritation. "What in hell is it?" 
 
 "I suppose you catch it," said Tresham 
 brightening up. " Why do you want any? " 
 
 "Want any?" said Stockdale with a hos- 
 tile stare. " Look here, Phil, I Ve got to 
 report on this mess to old Von Moltke 
 tomorrow, and I wish you'd be a little 
 sympathetic and let me run over the facts 
 as I understand them, and then advise." 
 
 "Fire away," said Tresham genially, as 
 he shoved the shoe-repair reports further 
 back on his desk. " I 'm listening." 
 
 Stockdale drew up a chair and turned an 
 earnest gaze on his friend. 
 
 " It seems," he began, consulting certain 
 notes in his hands, "that all Gaul, I mean 
 all Garbage, is divided into four parts, as 
 
 [9] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 follows: {a) Bones, (b) Bread, which in- 
 cludes all bread-stuffs unfit for human food, 
 (c) Raw fats, cooked meats, grease, includ- 
 ing trap-grease, {d) Other garbage." 
 
 ^^I bet I know what other garbage is," 
 interrupted Tresham. '' Swill." 
 
 ^^Why, it's all swill, you dummy," said 
 Stockdale. ^^ Let me get on." 
 
 "Oh, all right," said Tresham, "go 
 ahead." 
 
 "Now the man who buys the garbage 
 at Camp Gettysburg, awfully decent and 
 humane sort of a chap he seems, fussing all 
 the time because he won't have broken glass, 
 tin cans and washing powder in his garbage ; 
 says the hogs he feeds it to don't like it, and 
 one of them choked himself to death with a 
 bit of glass the other day; well, this fellow 
 complains that the Camp Quartermaster 
 won't turn over the trap-grease and in con- 
 sequence he refuses to make his last monthly 
 payment on the contract." 
 
 Tresham held up his hand. "One mo- 
 ment," he said. "Will my listening to this 
 help win the war?" 
 
 " Sure," answered Stockdale. " If not, 
 why are you in Washington?" 
 
 " I only wanted to make certain," said 
 
 [lO] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 Tresham. ^^ Go ahead. What does the 
 Camp Quartermaster say to the charges?" 
 
 ^^ Here's his last telegram," said Stock- 
 dale. ^^^ Trap-grease absolutely at con- 
 tractor's disposal, camp full of it, con- 
 tractor very remiss in removing same, 
 causing great inconvenience and endanger- 
 ing health conditions.'" 
 
 '' Great Scott," said Tresham, " that con- 
 tractor is a bad one after all. Any come 
 back from him to that telegram?" 
 
 ^^Yes," answered Stockdale, ^^ here's a 
 letter in which he offers to prove that the 
 men in at least half a dozen messes are doing 
 him out of his trap-grease by selling it 
 themselves." 
 
 '' It certainly is a hard nut to crack," 
 admitted Tresham, ^^but what does Jones 
 say? He 's garbage expert." 
 
 '' He 's just gone off on an inspection tour 
 for a week," said Stockdale bitterly. ^' Of 
 course, I went to see him the first thing 
 after I 'd read the papers. Meanwhile I 've 
 got to report tomorrow." 
 
 "What's the money value involved? 
 How much does the contractor hold back? " 
 queried Tresham. 
 
 Stockdale looked a trifle sheepish in 
 
 [II] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Spite of the fact that the controversy was 
 none of his contriving. 
 
 ^* That has nothing to do with it," he said. 
 
 ^^How much?" persisted Tresham. 
 
 "Well, forty-two dollars and sixty-five 
 cents," admitted Stockdale. 
 
 " Great Scott! Look here. Bob, if I give 
 a check for the amount wouldn't that 
 help?" 
 
 " Nonsense," exclaimed Stockdale un- 
 gratefully, "the point is, how am I going 
 to convince General Gish that he can't put 
 the contractor in prison?" 
 
 "Oh, I know the answer to that," said 
 Tresham blithely. "Convince Gish? It 
 can't be done. If that's what is troubling 
 you, forget it." 
 
 Stockdale smiled somewhat ruefully and 
 looked at his watch. " I guess you are 
 right," he said. "Half-past five. Let's go 
 home." 
 
 The two walked slowly up Pennsylvania 
 Avenue, pausing for a while at the corner 
 of Twelfth Street to watch Col. Beaumont 
 of the British Aviation Corps do a tail-spin 
 in his aeroplane which stopped just short of 
 the roof of the New Willard. 
 
 "There's one fellow who's got nothing 
 
 [12] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 to worry about," observed Tresham as they 
 resumed their walk, each with a slight crick 
 in his neck. 
 
 ^^ That's so," agreed Stockdale. ^^Only 
 risks his life once or twice a day. He's all 
 right, certainly." 
 
 Stockdale dined that night at the Bart- 
 leys. They had a magnificent house on 
 Massachusetts Avenue, and the party was 
 a large one. At dinner he found himself 
 seated next to the beautiful Miss Lovering, 
 formerly prominent in New York's smart- 
 est smart set, now resting in Washington 
 after six months' Red Cross Canteen Serv- 
 ice in the War Zone. She had hair the 
 color of dafifodils, blue eyes, a complexion 
 that can only be described truthfully by the 
 word peach-blow, an air of high distinction, 
 and looked on the whole like a Russian 
 princess. Her manners were charming 
 and confiding, not to say insinuating, and 
 her near presence was a balm to Stockdale, 
 who had known her slightly for some 
 time. 
 
 " Do tell me about your work," she said 
 after a preliminary exchange of common- 
 places had occurred. ^^ You 're in the 
 Quartermaster's Department, aren't you? 
 
 [13] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 And a civilian? What an experiment they 
 are making! Do you like your work?" 
 
 Stockdale smiled grimly. ^^ It has all the 
 charm of novelty," he observed. 
 
 *^What is your specialty, — Clothing, 
 Equipage, Remount or Subsistence?" asked 
 Miss Lovering, w^ho amused herself by 
 keeping a very pretty hand on the pulse of 
 the war machine in Washington. 
 
 ^^Well, I've spent today studying gar- 
 bage, if you must know," answered Stock- 
 dale. '' It 's a very interesting subject. All 
 garbage is divided — " 
 
 *' I don't want to know," interrupted Miss 
 Lovering. '^ Surely your war work can't 
 consist wholly in dealing with what I have 
 always heard called by a shorter and uglier 
 word. Don't you bring your trained legal 
 mind to bear on anything else?" She 
 smiled encouragingly. 
 
 "Well, yes, I suppose I do," admitted 
 Stockdale- 
 
 "What?" pursued Miss Lovering. 
 
 "Well, if you're really interested," said 
 Stockdale, who was growing more cheerful 
 every minute, looking first at Miss Lover- 
 ing and then down the table, "manure." 
 
 Miss Lovering paused in the act of 
 
 [14] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 carrying her glass to her lips and gazed 
 at Stockdale sternly, but seeing only an 
 open and ingenuous countenance, one too 
 that she somehow found singularly attrac- 
 tive, threw back her head and laughed. 
 
 '^ Upon my word," she said, '' I don't 
 wonder you look worried." 
 
 *^ Oh, it is n't that," answered Stockdale. 
 His troubles seemed to be slipping away 
 in the congenial society in which he found 
 himself. ^^The subject matter of my job 
 does n't bother me a bit. I 'm going to have 
 framed a form of contract I 'm working out 
 to cover the sale of garbage, and also one for 
 manure. I '11 hang them in my dining room, 
 along with the family portraits, so my de- 
 scendants can say, ^This is what he did in 
 the Great War.' " 
 
 Stockdale looked to the other end of the 
 table and exclaimed, ^^ By Jove, there's my 
 boss now." 
 
 Miss Lovering followed his glance. 
 '^ Oh, General Gish? " she remarked with a 
 laugh. ^^ Isn't he a funny old dear?" 
 
 Stockdale gazed at her suspiciously. 
 '^^Dear' isn't just the word I would use, 
 if you asked me," he answered. 
 
 *^ He 's a great beau of mine," went on 
 
 [15] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Miss Lovering, ^^and will do anything I 
 ask him." 
 
 Hope gleamed in Stockd ale's eye. From 
 a full heart he poured out a tale in which 
 the words ^^ rnartinet," ^^penitentiary" and 
 last but by no means least ^4rap-grease" 
 were of frequent occurrence. 
 
 Miss Lovering was hugely interested. 
 '^ Leave it all to me," she said mysteriously 
 as she rose from the table. " Good-night. 
 I have some diplomatic work to do and 
 shan't see you again this evening." 
 
 The following day Stockdale filed in 
 with the other section heads to the con- 
 ference room with a sinking heart. He 
 had no report ready, and Miss Lovering 
 at the moment seemed as far away as 
 General Pershing. Stockdale could not 
 see much chance of help from either of 
 them. 
 
 General Gish and Major Bowker entered, 
 and all stood up respectfully until they 
 were seated. 
 
 General Gish looked a trifle more impor- 
 tant and martial than usual, if such a thing 
 was possible. As a matter of fact, however, 
 there was at the moment, floating before 
 his mind's eye an entrancing vision of 
 
 [i6] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 feminine loveliness which murmured in 
 dulcet tones the words : ^' You are so tactful, 
 General Gish, that I know you understand 
 how to get the best out of the men under 
 you, by trusting them, giving them com- 
 plete responsibility, I mean." Without 
 preliminaries he uttered the magic word 
 ^^ Garbage!" 
 
 Stockdale's heart skipped three beats, and 
 then did a sort of side-step. It was useless 
 telling himself that General Gish could not 
 commit him to prison or other place of con- 
 finement. It was useless, because in the 
 innermost recesses of his heart he rather 
 suspected it might be done. What could n't 
 be done in war times? 
 
 ^^Mr. Stockdale, your report." 
 
 Stockdale rose. "All garbage is di- 
 vided — " he began. 
 
 "No! no! no!" exclaimed General Gish. 
 "I want your report on the situation at 
 Camp Gettysburg." 
 
 Stockdale caught Tresham's eye and 
 sought inspiration, but finding none there 
 remarked desperately, "The contractor is 
 not getting his trap-grease." 
 
 "Ha," said General Gish, breathing 
 heavily. "What is trap-grease?" 
 
 [17] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Stockdale had passed beyond the point of 
 caring what happened. 
 
 "I think you catch it," he said, *^and 
 perhaps the contractor has n't used the right 
 bait." 
 
 A shudder passed round the room, and 
 General Gish seemed about to explode. 
 Presently he did so, with a laugh that caused 
 him to pufif and choke until his face became 
 so deep a purple that Major Bowker was 
 observed to lean forward towards his Chief 
 and heard to mutter, ^^ That's so. General," 
 although the latter had not spoken. 
 
 " Mr. Stockdale," resumed General Gish, 
 " I do not care to enter into the details of 
 this matter. As Chief of our legal section 
 you should be competent to settle the affair 
 without further reference to me. Do so. 
 I have an appointment with the General 
 Staff and will hear no other reports today. 
 Dismissed." 
 
 General Gish and Major Bowker 
 marched out of the room with clanking 
 spurs. 
 
 "What did it mean?" asked Tresham 
 of Stockdale as the two walked down the 
 corridor to their offices. 
 
 "What is the handsomest present you can 
 
 [i8] 
 
TRAP-GREASE 
 
 properly send to a girl you hardly know?" 
 asked Stockdale by way of answer. He 
 paused at the threshold of his door. ^* One 
 whom you'd like to know better?" he 
 added. 
 
 [19] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 IT was a mere coincidence that Tresham 
 and Stockdale found themselves doing 
 war work in the same office in Wash- 
 ington. The former had been at his post for 
 some months when Stockdale, upon the 
 recommendation of one of the Assistant 
 Secretaries of War, came on to take his 
 place as head of the newly created legal 
 section of the Camp Service Division, 
 O. Q. M. G. 
 
 The two were life-long friends, and their 
 close association was as pleasing to them 
 as it was unexpected. They ^^kept com- 
 pany," after the day's work was over, with 
 considerable regularity. Stockdale was a 
 bachelor, and so temporarily was Tresham 
 — presumably for the duration of the war. 
 His wife and several children remained at 
 their all-the-year-round country house out- 
 side of Boston, while he tasted again the 
 doubtful joys of single life. Tresham pro- 
 
 [23] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 fessed to find these not only irksome but, 
 as he phrased it, "terrific." The fact re- 
 mained, however, that in spite of working 
 longer hours and under greater pressure 
 than he had ever done before, he had gained 
 in weight and gave a general impression of 
 being something like ten years younger 
 than when he arrived at the nation's capital. 
 He attributed this curious result, the ex- 
 istence of which he could not deny, to the 
 tonic eflfect upon the human system of great 
 sacrifices borne with fortitude. 
 
 Single men in Washington during the 
 year 191 8, whether spurious or the genuine 
 article, did not need to spend their evenings 
 in seclusion unless they preferred to do so. 
 They were wanted for dinners, and theatre 
 or bridge parties, both those where the 
 gentler sex provided a tranquil contrast to 
 the war whirl and those for men only. 
 Tresham and Stockdale, however, after a 
 hard day's work generally chose to spend 
 the evening far from the madding crowd. 
 After dinner at some hotel, they were ac- 
 customed to speed back to Tresham's rooms 
 on the top floor of the apartment house on 
 H Street near the club. It was a cosy little 
 eyrie and looked out towards the State, 
 
 [24] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 War and Navy building, the many lighted 
 windows of which gave a cheery appearance 
 to the night. 
 
 One evening early in May, after a period 
 of mental discipline devoted to an heroic 
 endeavor to keep their minds off the war, 
 an attempt which had reduced both par- 
 ticipants to a state of acute nervous irrita- 
 tion, Tresham suddenly asked, "What is 
 the latest date you would be willing to take 
 for the end of the war?" 
 
 "How do you mean ^take'?" queried 
 Stockdale. 
 
 " Well, you don't know, and I don't know, 
 when the war will end; nobody knows." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Your guess or mine is just as good as 
 the Kaiser's?" 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 " Now, I don't mean, when do you think 
 the war will end, but taking into considera- 
 tion the fact that it may end soon or may 
 last for a long time, what date would you 
 be willing to accept?" 
 
 "I think it will end sooner than most 
 people do," said Stockdale musingly, "say 
 in about three months." 
 
 "You've thought it would end in three 
 
 [25] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 months for the last three years, haven't 
 you?" . 
 
 Stockdale nodded assent. ^'.And lost a 
 good deal of money on it," he observed. 
 
 ^^ Never you mind, old top," Tresham 
 said, ^^ don't get discouraged. If you've 
 got a good idea, stick to it. You keep right 
 on saying three months, and some day, if 
 you live long enough, you '11 be right. But 
 that's not the question I 'm putting." 
 
 ^'I don't get just w^hat you are driving 
 at," admitted Stockdale. 
 
 ^^ I '11 illustrate. You don't know how 
 long you are going to live, do you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, what age would you be willing to 
 accept as a certainty?" 
 
 " I would n't accept any age. I don't 
 want to know when I 'm going to die," 
 answered Stockdale with some alarm. 
 
 " Confound it, you are n't going to know. 
 I 'm just trying to show you what I am talk- 
 ing about. You don't think I can tell you 
 how long you're going to live, do you?" 
 
 " No, nor when the war will end, either." 
 
 " Oh, well," observed Tresham with some 
 indignation, " if you don't want to discuss 
 a very pretty problem, don't." 
 [26] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 ^^ Let me try again," said Stockdale peni- 
 tently. "You mean, if the choice were 
 given me of remaining in uncertainty as to 
 whether the war will end either soon or 
 late, or of naming an absolutely certain date 
 for its ending, how late a date would I be 
 willing to fix for the sake of getting rid of 
 the uncertainty?" 
 
 /^That's it," agreed Tresham. 
 
 Stockdale consumed nearly an entire cig- 
 arette before he said, "February i, 1919." 
 
 "You don't want much, do you?" asked 
 Tresham. "Most people think the war 
 can't end until the autumn of next year, 
 even if everything goes on wheels." 
 
 "My date is February i, 1919," re- 
 peated Stockdale firmly. " What 's yours? " 
 
 "The first of July," answered Tresham 
 promptly. 
 
 " Hello," exclaimed Stockdale, sitting 
 bolt upright with surprise on the couch 
 where he had been reclining. "What has 
 converted the old croaker? I thought you 
 swore by these military experts who dope 
 things out in the newspapers and take any- 
 one's head off who dares to think the war 
 is going to end, — ever." 
 
 Stockdale, like most of the people in 
 
 [27] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Washington, had suffered acute depression 
 in the heavy pall of gloom which hung over 
 that city in the spring of 191 8, — since that 
 day in March, in fact, v^hen the German 
 hordes bent back the Allied line like a tor- 
 rent bursting its dam. It v^as a time vsrhen 
 one pounced upon the tiniest item of good 
 news with avidity, and sought comfort in 
 the talk of wrong-headed optimists. When 
 Tresham, who always kept his feet on the 
 ground, made the above startling admission, 
 Stockdale's mercurial spirits soared upward 
 as though they had been cast loose from a 
 hundred ton anchor. 
 
 *^That means, of course, that you think 
 it will end earlier than the first of July," 
 he went on, feeling for the moment almost 
 as if the matter were settled. 
 
 *^ That's what it means," Tresham as- 
 sented. ^' We 're all scared to death just now 
 at these drives. It 's bad reading, and I hate 
 to follow them on the map. But it's the 
 last shot in Germany's locker. If she 
 doesn't win now, and that's not going to 
 happen, she'll begin to go, and when she 
 goes it will be mighty fast. Look what 
 happened after the battle of Jena." 
 
 "Good old Jena," agreed Stockdale. 
 [28] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 ^^ I 've been talking about Jena ever since 
 1914." 
 
 ^^It's going to happen again," observed 
 Tresham sagely. 
 
 "I hope so!" said Stockdale fervently. 
 ^^ But I can't seem to picture any finish 
 to it." 
 
 *^It is difBcult," agreed Tresham. **I 
 suppose that v^hen the Germans have had 
 enough they v^ill ask for terms." 
 
 *^The way Bethman Hollweg did in 
 19 16? Good Lord, do you remember the 
 way stocks went diving for the bottom?" 
 
 Tresham nodded grimly. '^We're pay- 
 ing for our sins now," he said. 
 
 There was a moment's silence before 
 Stockdale remarked, " It is going to be 
 some job settling the peace terms." 
 
 Tresham nodded. " It is a tangle, of 
 course," he said. " Still, I believe Germany 
 would give up everything the Allies want 
 now, except her hold in the East." 
 
 ^^Alsace-Lorraine and her Colonies?" 
 queried Stockdale. 
 
 *^ I think so," said Tresham. 
 
 " How about the Hohenzollerns?" asked 
 Stockdale after a little reflection. 
 
 "Up to the German people, and none 
 
 [29] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 of our business. If they do what we want 
 about outside matters, what do we care what 
 kind of rulers or form of government they 
 have? If they want the HohenzoUerns let 
 them have them." 
 
 Stockdale shook his head. *^You talk 
 like the peace treaty of Vienna," he said. 
 ** You put the emphasis on the wrong places. 
 The first thing Germany must do is to get 
 rid of that gang of what I heard a fellow 
 citizen of Italian extraction call ^ Middle- 
 Aged Despots.' Other questions come after 
 that. The Colonies, for example, should n't 
 go back to Germany, but be handed over to 
 Brazil, Patagonia or some nation in the 
 South Sea Islands, if there are any nations 
 there, but not on any account to one of the 
 Allies. I don't want to see any country 
 come out of this war any better off in re- 
 spect to territory than when she went into 
 it. Perhaps Poland, I don't know anything 
 about that; but there's one great exception 
 — Alsace-Lorraine to France." 
 
 "Why the exception?" 
 
 "Because it's merely restoring stolen 
 goods; because the French have been so 
 magnificent; because a French officer I had 
 lunch with yesterday was one of ,the best 
 
 [30] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 fellows I Ve met in a long time. Put it 
 down to any reason you want, but it ought 
 to be done," 
 
 ^^It sure ought," agreed Tresham, "but 
 where does your punishment for Germany 
 come in?" 
 
 "I have always said," continued Stock- 
 dale, "that Germany's real punishment is 
 going to come when the war is over. Ger- 
 many is going to be punished, never you 
 fear. There will be bills to pay, territory to 
 be surrendered, and worst of all a realization 
 by the German people, sooner or later, of 
 their own rottenness. Germany set out to 
 do something on which her whole vicious 
 system was based, and she has failed. When 
 that sinks in on the Germans, which it won't 
 do thoroughly until after the war, they will 
 get considerable punishment of the kind 
 they need." 
 
 "Wouldn't you make it physically im- 
 possible for Germany to start war again?" 
 
 "As far as that can be done within rea- 
 sonable limits. You can't keep a nation 
 permanently in such condition that it can't 
 fight; it has been tried and doesn't work. 
 But I agree that for fundamental reasons, 
 and also in order to have something tan- 
 
 [31] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 gible to point to, I should like to see a 
 public execution of German militarism." 
 
 ^^How?" queried Tresham. 
 
 ^^ It 's German militarism we are fighting, 
 and that is the thing which ought to be hit 
 by the peace terms," said Stockdale, warm- 
 ing to his subject. ^' There would be no 
 justice in piling on indemnities which would 
 fall on generation after generation of Ger- 
 man people who had nothing to do with 
 the present aflfair. We don't want indem- 
 nities covering the entire cost of the 
 war, even if we could get them. I read 
 something in a book the other day which 
 struck me as being sound. It was this: 
 ^ The more we beat Fritz by becoming like 
 him, the more he wins after all.' We don't 
 want to do that. Make Germany pay 
 enough, no matter how much it takes, to 
 restore Belgium and northern France, and 
 to make good all damages to civilians else- 
 where; make her give up Alsace-Lorraine 
 and get out of Russia and the Balkans; and 
 then go after German militarism. Now 
 German militarism is represented in actual 
 fact by things and by individuals. Of 
 course, at bottom it's merely a vicious and 
 insane idea, but nevertheless you can put 
 
 [32] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 your hand on some very definite manifes- 
 tations of the idea. My plan for deal- 
 ing with German militarism is based on an 
 old English law which has to do with 
 deodands." 
 
 "What's a deodand?" asked Tresham, 
 opening his eyes and starting out of a semi- 
 doze. " Sounds like a bird." 
 
 "Well, it isn't a bird; it's this: Under 
 the old common law, when a weapon, or in 
 fact anything whatever, killed a man, that 
 thing was forfeited to the crown as a deo- 
 dand and put out of use forever. For 
 instance, if you murdered a man with an 
 axe, the crown could claim the axe; or if a 
 cart ran over a man and killed him, the cart 
 was a deodand and forfeited. The idea 
 was that a thing could be bad, and that a 
 bad thing ought to be punished." 
 
 " If I threw you out the window," asked 
 Tresham, becoming interested, " and you 
 landed on your head on the roof of the 
 building below, is that building a deodand? 
 I mean, under this old law?" 
 
 " I don't know," answered Stockdale, re- 
 fusing to be diverted from his subject, " but 
 I do know there was the same kind of law 
 in Athens, way back in B. C. There what- 
 
 [33] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 ever was the cause of a man's death was 
 either exterminated or cast out of the 
 dominions of the Republic." 
 
 " I only asked," said Tresham. " Go 
 ahead." 
 
 ^' Well, I should treat all Germany's war 
 material as deodand. After the peace con- 
 ference I should get out a proclamation 
 something like this : ^ German militarism 
 has been tried at the bar of nations, found 
 guilty and condemned to death. The sen- 
 tence will now be carried out as follows: 
 
 ^^^ I. The German fleet, including every 
 war vessel large or small, together with all 
 guns and equipment, all other guns, rifles, 
 small arms, ordnance, and munitions of 
 every kind, and all air craft, shall be 
 collected at designated points and totally 
 destroyed. 
 
 "^2. The Krupp works at Essen every 
 ordnance and munitions plant of every kind 
 whatsoever, and all forts, fortresses, military 
 posts, barracks, cantonments and camps 
 within the German Empire, shall be razed 
 to the ground and all their equipment 
 totally destroyed. 
 
 ^^^3. One month after the completion of 
 action provided for by Articles i and 2, the 
 
 [34] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 Kaiser and the Crown Prince of Germany 
 shall be placed on public trial for violation 
 of the laws of God and man before a plenary- 
 court set up by the Allies.' " 
 
 Stockdale paused and turned towards his 
 friend. ^' How's that?" he demanded. 
 
 '^ It won't be done," said Tresham. 
 
 *^ Probably not," agreed Stockdale, ^^but 
 isn't it a good idea?" 
 
 "Not very, old top; it's too wasteful." 
 
 "Wasteful?" repeated Stockdale. "A 
 few million dollars' worth of war stuff when 
 millions of human beings have been killed? 
 This reclamation work has certainly gone 
 to your head, Phil." 
 
 "Why not turn over Germany's ships, 
 guns and so forth to the Allies, instead of 
 destroying them?" suggested Tresham. 
 
 " It wouldn 't have the same effect. In 
 the first place, it negatives the idea of dis- 
 interestedness on the part of the Allies. 
 In the second place, it entirely misses the 
 point." 
 
 "What is the point?" 
 
 "The point," said Stockdale, "is that the 
 people of the world should be shown in a 
 way they can understand that guns, muni- 
 tions and war plants generally are bad 
 
 [35] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 things; necessary evils at best and not to be 
 allowed in the hands of people who can't 
 be trusted to use them only for defensive 
 purposes." 
 
 ^^You sound like a pacifist," said 
 Tresham. **Are you?" 
 
 "I don't know what a pacifist is," an- 
 swered Stockdale. He reflected a moment, 
 smiled, and then went on, *^^ Pacifist' is a 
 word that may mean as many things as a 
 phrase which is discussed with considerable 
 acumen in one of Anthony Hope's stories. 
 
 * Comedies of Courtship' is the name of 
 the volume, but the name of the particular 
 story I 've forgotten. However, I know the 
 discussion in question by heart." 
 
 "All right," assented Tresham, "I'll 
 listen. Spring it." 
 
 " The hero had remarked to the heroine, 
 
 * When you gave me that kiss,' or words to 
 that effect, and as the statement seemed to 
 her an exaggeration, she became indignant. 
 The author justifies his hero's use of the 
 form of expression objected to on the ground 
 that ^ to give a kiss ' may mean : 
 
 "^i. What it literally says — to bestow 
 a kiss. 
 
 " ^ 2. To offer one's self to be kissed. 
 
 [36] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 "^3. To accept willingly a proffered 
 kiss; and without much straining of words. 
 
 " ' Merely to refrain from angry ex- 
 postulation and rupture of acquaintance 
 when one is kissed.' 
 
 ^^This last the heroine had done. It is 
 much the same with 'pacifist.' The word 
 may mean an individual who pats an in- 
 truder on the back during such period as 
 the latter is slaughtering the pacifist's wife 
 and children. In fact that is the familiar 
 and classic illustration most frequently used. 
 On the other hand, people talk about our 
 pacifist President, a man who is carrying 
 on war on a scale never before dreamed of 
 in this country. If he is a pacifist, I hope 
 I am. If a pacifist means a man who be- 
 lieves that the only lasting good that can 
 come out of this war is something which 
 will make other wars less likely, write me 
 down a pacifist. I am one sure." 
 
 '^ Everyone is," said Tresham, after a 
 moment's reflection. Presently he added, 
 '^ Except a few old-style senators and half 
 a dozen army officers, all good men too, who 
 are living intellectually in the Middle 
 Ages." 
 
 Stockdale got up, took a cigarette from 
 
 [37] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 the box on the table, and went back to the 
 couch. 
 
 ^^It's a good thing the country has got 
 you and me to settle these difficult points 
 for it," he remarked. 
 
 " Is n't it? " agreed Tresham. " I took a 
 week's vacation before coming on here, 
 after I wound up my job as Red Cross Field 
 Director. Motor, trip with my wife in 
 Virginia. Went through lovely country, 
 and had glorious weather; but I didn't 
 enjoy it. Couldn't sag back; couldn't 
 rest; could hardly sleep; felt all the time 
 that until I got back on the job so I could 
 keep in touch and worry about things 
 properly that the war was going to the 
 devil." 
 
 '' I know," said Stockdale. " It's funny, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 "Everybody's doing it," said Tresham 
 defensively. 
 
 " Except Mixter," suggested Stockdale. 
 
 " Mixter is a curious combination," said 
 Tresham, *^full of sentiment and practical 
 as a freight car. He works like the devil, 
 enjoys himself in his off moments as though 
 he were a child at its first party; doesn't 
 worry, and gets more fun out of being decent 
 
 [38] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 to the people he runs up against than any- 
 one I know." 
 
 ^' In the housing problem in Washington," 
 said Stockdale, '^he beat the U. S. to it. 
 Took a small apartment house way out on 
 Fourteenth Street and has let it out piece 
 meal to stranded stenographers. He loses 
 ten thousand a year by that transaction." 
 
 ^^He's very rich," said Tresh^m in 
 extenuation. 
 
 *^So are lots of people who aren't doing 
 it." 
 
 " I know. Mixter is all right. You don't 
 have to tell me. Are you dining there 
 tomorrow night, by any chance?" 
 
 ^' Yes, are you?" 
 
 "I am," answered Tresham. "It's at 
 seven o'clock. Theatre party, I suppose." 
 He yawned in an exaggerated fashion, and 
 rubbed his eyes. "Are you spending the 
 night here?" he asked with a grin. 
 
 " Oh, I '11 go," exclaimed Stockdale. " I 
 waste too much time on you, I admit, 
 but I 'm foolish and good-natured. Good- 
 night." 
 
 "Good-night. See you in the morning. 
 Don't dream of deodands or dodos or other 
 fabulous monsters." 
 
 [39] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 II 
 
 The party at Major and Mrs. Mixter's 
 dinner had to break up into contingents 
 in wending its way to the theatre. Miss 
 Lovering, Miss Albert, Stockdale and CoL 
 D'Estrey went down m the same cab. The 
 last named was a gallant French officer who 
 had lost his right arm at the battle of the 
 Somme, and who had arrived in Washing- 
 ton shortly before, on a special mission. 
 Tall, smooth-faced and black-haired, he 
 looked very handsome in his sky-blue 
 uniform. 
 
 The cab had drawn up to the curb and 
 stopped in front of the Paoli Theatre, and 
 Stockdale had half opened the door, when it 
 dashed forward again at the speed of about 
 forty miles an hour, and with a jerk that 
 threw Miss Lovering forward into Stock- 
 dale's lap, while the gallant Frenchman 
 found himself embracing Miss Albert in a 
 manner which was none the less delightful 
 because it was unexpected and sudden. 
 
 "What in the world," began Stockdale 
 when the four occupants of the cab had 
 become somewhat disentangled. He twisted 
 [40] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 his head round and rapped at the window as 
 the cab, having slackened its speed, de- 
 scribed a loop and returned in the direction 
 from which it had come. 
 
 ^^What do you think you are doing,, 
 driver?" he called out. "What's the 
 trouble?" 
 
 The driver turned his head. "The 
 President's car came up behind us, sir," 
 he explained respectfully, "and I had to 
 get out of the way." 
 
 "Oh, all right," said Stockdale, "we are 
 willing to accord him precedence." 
 
 " Even in going to the theatre," said Miss 
 Lovering with a smile. 
 
 " You said the President," exclaimed Col. 
 D'Estrey, in much excitement. " You meant 
 your President? The President of Amer- 
 ica? Wilson?" 
 
 "The very same," acknowledged Stock- 
 dale. 
 
 "I shall see that man?" went on Col. 
 D'Estrey with increasing excitement. " He 
 will be inside the theatre where we may 
 look on him?" 
 
 The three Americans gazed at the gallant 
 French officer, and each one of them was 
 touched, yes, and made proud, by his almost 
 
 [41] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 painful emotion. Miss Lovering made an 
 effort to relieve the tension. *^Why, Col. 
 D'Estrey, you may see him at the theatre 
 three or four nights every week," she 
 remarked. 
 
 ^^Here we are," observed Stockdale as 
 the cab drew up at the Paoli Theatre for 
 the second time. 
 
 In the lobby they met Major and Mrs. 
 Mixter, and the rest of the party, and all 
 filed down the aisle to their seats in the third 
 row. In an unobtrusive fashion Stockdale 
 so manoeuvered that he found himself sitting 
 next to Miss Lovering. To sit next to Miss 
 Lovering on the occasions on which they 
 met since they had renewed their acquaint- 
 ance at the Bartley's dinner some weeks be- 
 fore, had somehow become a fixed idea with 
 Stockdale. Her high-bred beauty and allur- 
 ing femininity had made her one of the most 
 charming of mortals even in peace times. 
 Now, beneath the somber clouds of war, she 
 had for the first time in her life experienced 
 emotions which stirred her to the depths 
 of her being, and made her wholesome, un- 
 selfish nature expand and blossom forth like 
 a rose in June. An unsuspected love for her 
 fellow creatures shone forth from blue eyes 
 
 [42] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 that had formerly looked on the world 
 with a somewhat haughty gaze. On Miss 
 Lovering's other side was Col. D'Estrey. 
 
 ^^ There is the President, just above us," 
 she remarked, indicating the box on the left 
 draped with the American flag. 
 
 Col. D'Estrey raised his eyes and saw, 
 sitting in the front of the box, a smooth- 
 faced man wearing eye-glasses. The face 
 was intellectual, indeed almost ascetic. He 
 sat back in his chair with the poise of con- 
 scious strength, and his heavily hung under 
 jaw betokened resolute purpose. His right 
 hand rested motionless on the plush-covered 
 railing of the box. Near him, in front, sat 
 a pleasant-faced old lady with white hair, 
 and further back were two younger women. 
 
 Col. D'Estrey looked long and reverently. 
 He gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. ^^I 
 have seen him," he said solemnly to Miss 
 Lovering. 
 
 The play was called " Getting Together." 
 It was a jumble of unconnected scenes of 
 war-time episodes in France, treated in light 
 fashion, and was calculated to interest and 
 amuse one who, like Col. D'Estrey, had 
 spent much time at the front. But, except 
 during the singing of a catchy ditty called 
 
 [43] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 ^^ Keep your head down, Fritzy boy," Col. 
 D'Estrey's eyes remained fastened on the 
 box at the left. 
 
 Between the acts Miss Lovering turned to 
 him and asked, " Well, what do you think 
 of him? Is he like his pictures?" 
 
 Stockdale leaned forward to hear the 
 reply. He was vastly interested, and wanted 
 to know the frank opinion of this brave 
 representative of glorious France. 
 
 " He does look like his pictures," said 
 Col. D'Estrey to Miss Lovering and Stock- 
 dale, "only finer and stronger; just as I 
 imagined him. For nearly three years I 
 have been in the trenches and have fought 
 as well as I knew how for my beloved and 
 suffering country. We have been fighting 
 to save our nation, for its right to exist, for 
 its very life. We shall never give in, even 
 if we are all killed, but we can do little 
 more. France is nearing exhaustion. It is 
 your young and strong nation which must 
 turn the scale. You do not know the grati- 
 tude France feels to your country, nor the 
 hope which fills her aching heart with a 
 new joy now that America has come to our 
 aid. You do not know, you cannot know, 
 how we regard your President. We have 
 
 [44] 
 
SETTLING THE PEACE TERMS 
 
 been fighting, I say, to save France, but 
 until your President spoke we did not 
 know the larger purpose for which our 
 sacrifices have been made. He has made 
 clear to every one of our poilus that we 
 have fought, and our dead have died, not 
 for France alone but for humanity, for the 
 whole world. It is his voice which has 
 made doubtful things clear. He has told 
 us what we are fighting for. I wish we had 
 in France someone to speak for us, as he 
 has done for you. We have good men and 
 strong men, so has England ; but those of us 
 who have lived in the trenches and seen our 
 comrades and friends fall around us in bat- 
 tle, all look to your President to express 
 what we have felt and feel. Whenever I 
 pass the White House I say, *It is from 
 there that peace will come; a peace of 
 justice which will yet heal the world.' I 
 do not believe you understand what your 
 President means to us." 
 
 Miss Lovering's eyes were shining. With- 
 out the slightest attempt at concealment, 
 she took Col. D'Estrey's left hand, his only 
 one, in hers and held it while she said, "We 
 will understand better after what you have 
 told us." 
 
 [45] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Tresham and Stockdale met for a moment 
 on the way out after the play was over. 
 
 ^^ Perhaps, Phil," observed the latter, 
 *^we might leave the settling of the peace 
 terms to that gentleman who occupied the 
 ''lower left-hand box. From something I 
 happened to hear tonight, I think that might 
 satisfy the world as well as if we continued 
 to do it." 
 
 " And you and I concentrate on our own 
 business?" queried Tresham. "That's a 
 brand-new idea, but I 'm not sure it is a bad 
 one. Let's try it." 
 
 Habit, however, as Prof. William James 
 has observed, is the great conservative fly- 
 wheel of society and resents innovations. 
 
 The next evening in Tresham's rooms, 
 after much rambling conversation. Stock- 
 dale rose and looked out the window towards 
 the lights of the State, War and Navy build- 
 ing. He turned back to the room and re- 
 marked, " How would it do to put the 
 German Colonies under a sort of protect- 
 orate and let them work out to inde- 
 pendence, the way we are doing with the 
 Philippines?" And in five minutes he and 
 Tresham were hard at work again, settling 
 the peace terms. 
 
 [46] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 ^TTT reminds me of the tapir story," ob- 
 I served Peter Carton thoughtfully, as 
 A he paused in his labors to lean back 
 and light a cigarette. 
 
 " What 's the tapir story? " queried Jones, 
 chief assistant in the division of Passenger 
 Transportation. "Tell it." 
 
 "Oh, it's long and needs a down-east 
 accent, and has n't any point anyhow," ob- 
 jected Carton. After a moment's pause he 
 went on, "A down-east sailor man, just 
 returned stiff with brine from a two years' 
 voyage, met up with the proprietor of a 
 menagerie at the boarding-house to which 
 he repaired, and the two at once became 
 friends. The menagerie man confided that 
 he had two tapirs stored away in the cellar 
 of the boarding-house at that moment, and 
 asked the sailor man to come down with 
 him and hold a lamp while he fed them. 
 But when the two got to the cellar it ap- 
 
 [49] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 peared the tapirs had broken loose, and the 
 menagerie man besought his new friend to 
 aid in returning them to captivity. The 
 latter gave one terrified look at the long 
 snout and generally unlovely aspect of the 
 nearest tapir, who was rapidly proceeding 
 in his direction and, dropping the lamp 
 with a crash, made for the cellar stairs. 
 ^ I signed on to hold a lamp,' he called back. 
 ^ I did n't sign on to hunt tapirs.' " 
 
 ^^Well?" queried Jones, patiently. 
 
 ''Oh, that isn't the story," admitted Car- 
 ton. " At least it 's only one small end of it, 
 but somehow it reminded me of myself. 
 When I gave up my law business to come 
 down here with the Emergency Fleet Cor- 
 poration, I expected Mr. Schwab would call 
 me into his office once or twice a day and 
 say: ' Mr. Carton, kindly prepare a contract 
 for the construction of this twenty thousand 
 ton troopship,' and I would answer, ' Leave 
 it to me, Mr. Schwab, that troopship is as 
 good as built.' Then I would dash back to 
 my office, summon a stenographer and re- 
 mark, 'In consideration of the mutual 
 promises and agreements herein contained, 
 it is mutually promised and agreed by the 
 parties hereto as follows: One — The Blank 
 [50] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 Company, hereinafter called the Contrac- 
 tor, shall build a twenty thousand ton troop- 
 ship, according to the following specifi- 
 cations, to wit: quality Ai. Time P. D.Q. 
 Two — The U. S. shall pay for the same 
 if, as, and when it sees fit,' or words to 
 that effect. Of course, Mr. Schwab or 
 Mr. Hurley would get the credit, but I 
 would have the satisfaction of knowing I 
 had really done the job." 
 
 "I wish you lawyers would draw con- 
 tracts like that," said Jones longingly, " then 
 someone could tell what you meant." 
 
 ^^Tell what we meant!" repeated Carton 
 indignantly. " What would become of you 
 capable business men without lawyers, I 'd 
 like to know? You run around, very busy, 
 like a lot of chickens with their heads 
 chopped off, and get things in a pretty 
 tangle; then we come in and smooth them 
 out, and before you know it everything goes 
 like clock-work." 
 
 ^^ Lawyers are a fine lot, no doubt," con- 
 ceded Jones. He paused a moment and 
 added, "I've always thought that there 
 was only one trouble with them ; they ought 
 to be put to work." 
 
 Carton did not deign to notice the im- 
 
 [51] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 plication, but resumed his previous train 
 of thought. 
 
 "As a matter of fact," he continued, 
 "I've hardly heard the word ^ship' men- 
 tioned since I 've been here. What have I 
 been doing, for instance, for the last three 
 months? Wrangling about car-fares on 
 street railways, discussing feeders, power- 
 houses, loops, 3A copper wire, voltage and 
 what not. I did n't know I had signed on 
 to hunt tapirs." 
 
 " It all helps," observed Jones encourag- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I suppose it does," admitted Carton, 
 " but the house that Jack built was nothing 
 to it." He tapped himself on the breast 
 and recited: "This is the man that drew 
 the agreement that called for the tracks that 
 carried the cars that ran to the house that 
 sheltered the man that drove the rivets 
 that held together the wonderful ship that 
 Schwab built." 
 
 "YouVe leaving out a good deal at 
 that," observed Jones. " How about sewer- 
 age, water, electric lights, and the other 
 things?" 
 
 " I know," agreed Carton. " I was only 
 touching on my personal endeavors. Have 
 
 [52] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 you been out to the National Shipbuilding 
 Company's plant at Camden lately?" 
 
 ^^Not for four weeks." 
 
 ^^ A lot can happen in four weeks now- 
 days. I spent yesterday morning there. I 
 did n't pay much attention to the eight new 
 ways they are putting in, because my job 
 took me out to the housing development. 
 They're building a complete city two miles 
 back in the country. It is great; the neatest 
 little brick houses you ever saw, a church, 
 a community center and a movie theatre. 
 It was an eye-opener to me." 
 
 "There is nothing picayune about the 
 way the U. S. is going into the shipbuilding 
 business certainly," agreed Jones. " Go out 
 to Hog Island the first chance you get." 
 
 " I mean to if I ever get your street rail- 
 way messes straightened out. Is Barker 
 coming in this morning? " 
 
 Jones nodded. "That's what I'm here 
 for; he's due now." 
 
 "That is the worst crowd weVe run up 
 against yet," observed Carton. "I am 
 afraid we shall have to take over that road 
 and run it." 
 
 "It will mean a lot of lost time," said 
 Jones regretfully, "but I suppose there is 
 
 [53] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 no help for it. They won't agree to any- 
 thing." 
 
 '' Of course, the road is in the hands of a 
 Receiver, and that does make a difference," 
 said Carton. ^^Technically, at least, they 
 have got to get the court's consent to any- 
 thing they do." 
 
 '' Have one more try this morning, at any 
 rate," urged Jones. " If we have to run the 
 road ourselves it will delay matters three or 
 four months at least." 
 
 There was a knock at the door, followed 
 by the appearance of a wide awake looking 
 ofRce boy who said, "Mr. Barker and Mr. 
 Meekin say they have an appointment with 
 you, sir." 
 
 " Bring them up," remarked Carton. He 
 gazed out the window, down to where the 
 City Hall of Philadelphia, surmounted by 
 the monster statue of William Penn, sprawls 
 over Broad Street like some uncouth crea- 
 tion of a mind distraught. To Carton it 
 suggested an illustration by Dore of a scene 
 in Dante's Inferno, and a sigh of gloom es- 
 caped his lips before he turned to Jones 
 and said, "We'll give it to them straight 
 this morning and get it settled one way or 
 the other." 
 
 [54] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 ''Mr. Barker, Mr. Meekin," announced 
 the office boy, throwing open the door. 
 
 A tall red-haired man with heavy mous- 
 tache and snapping bright blue eyes, 
 accompanied by a small, ferret-faced, 
 grey-haired individual, entered the room. 
 They were the Receiver of the United 
 Service Street Railway Company of New 
 York and his counsel. 
 
 " I wish it could be arranged," said the 
 latter tartly, '' so that we did n't have to wait 
 downstairs twenty minutes when we have 
 an appointment here." 
 
 ''I'm sorry, Mr. Meekin," said Carton 
 politely, " but I am afraid the rules of the 
 Emergency Fleet Corporation can't be 
 altered for the benefit of individuals." 
 
 The two men sat down and looked at 
 Carton with expressions of aggressive 
 obstinancy. 
 
 "Well, what have we got to do?" asked 
 Barker finally, calling to his aid the most 
 disagreeable tones of which he was capable. 
 " Tell us the worst and get it over with. If 
 the government desires to impose such con- 
 ditions on the United Service Street Rail- 
 way that it can never get on its feet again, 
 I suppose we've got to submit" 
 
 [55] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "It's a funny thing," remarked Mr. 
 Meekin, his little eyes gleaming maliciously, 
 "The country was told we went into this 
 war as a protest against autocracy, and 
 here's our own government giving orders 
 and doing things never heard of in a free 
 country. A man can't call his soul his own, 
 much less his business." 
 
 "And most of the orders are being given 
 by green men, amateurs, who have had no 
 experience, and don't know what they are 
 talking about," said Mr. Barker with 
 meaning. 
 
 Carton smiled pleasantly. " I don't won- 
 der you gentlemen are a trifle upset this 
 morning," he said. "You've had a sur- 
 prise, have n^ you ? You thought you could 
 go right over the heads of the Passenger 
 Transportation Division and myself, and 
 work something with Mr. Schwab directly. 
 You tried that yesterday, and he refused to 
 have anything to do with you, and sent you 
 back to us. That's a fact, isn't it?" 
 
 "We are doing our best to keep a valu- 
 able property committed to our charge by 
 the court from being ruined," said Mr. 
 Meekin savagely. 
 
 "Stop this buncombe and hot air, 
 
 [56] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 Meekin," said Carton sharply, "we have 
 had enough of it and are n't going to waste 
 time listening to any more. We offer you a 
 trade that is a benefit to your road, and 
 you know it as well as I do. What you want 
 is to get more out of the United States than 
 you are entitled to. You can't do it, and 
 you ought to be ashamed of yourselves for 
 wanting to do it." 
 
 "Look here," said Mr. Barker, starting 
 up, " I won't listen to this kind of talk! " 
 
 "Oh, yes, you will," went on Carton, a 
 hard glint coming into his eyes. "You 
 would listen to anything rather than have 
 that street railway of yours taken out of 
 your hands. I know you. You 're bluffing. 
 Now unless we reach an agreement this 
 morning the Emergency Fleet Corporation 
 is going to take the United Service Railway 
 Company and operate it under the authority 
 of Section 28 of the Emergency Deficiency 
 Act." 
 
 " Perhaps the court will have something 
 to say to that," suggested Mr. Meekin with 
 a sneer. 
 
 "You know more law than that, Mr. 
 Meekin," said Carton genially. "The 
 court won't lift a finger if we decide to 
 
 [57] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 take the road. But you Ve both made up 
 your minds that you don't want that done, 
 and are going to reach an agreement pleas- 
 antly and then urge the court to confirm it." 
 
 Barker and Meekin sat silent. 
 
 ^^Why can't you be nice and friendly 
 about it, the way everyone else is?" con- 
 tinued Carton. '' I 've put through agree- 
 ments with twenty other roads, and you are 
 the only people who haven't been anxious 
 to cooperate." 
 
 "What do you want us to do?" repeated 
 Mr. Barker querulously. "As I said be- 
 fore, tell us the worst." 
 
 " Oh, the worst, as you call it," said Car- 
 ton, "is good; really very good indeed. 
 The Blackstone Shipbuilding Company, 
 the Brevoot Windlass Company and the 
 Naylor Construction Company, all located 
 at Holbrook, N. Y., and all building ships 
 for the government, have taken on alto- 
 gether, — how many new men, Mr. Jones?" 
 
 " Roughly, five thousand," said Jones, 
 " not less at any rate." 
 
 " Have taken on five thousand new men," 
 repeated Carton. "There are no accom- 
 modations for them in Holbrook, the town 
 is full, — chock-a-block, — and they have to 
 
 [58] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 go to and fro from S tough ton, Brookfield 
 and Rockbridge, places reached by the 
 United Service Railway. The men have 
 been threatening to strike for the last two 
 weeks, because the car service is intolerable. 
 You know how bad it is better than I can 
 tell you. Our experts, not amateurs as you 
 call them, but some of the best street rail- 
 way men in America, have been over the 
 ground and decided what is needed. We 
 want you to put on twenty-four new-style 
 cars, equipped so they can be operated in 
 trains ; to build turnouts at specified places 
 so you can run more cars ; to increase your 
 power plant and put in new transmission 
 lines, and — well, those are the principal 
 things, but it 's all in this contract which I 
 have prepared." 
 
 "Where is the money coming from?" in- 
 quired Mr. Meekin. 
 
 " Don't play ignorance," said Carton, 
 "the money is coming from the United 
 States, by way of the Emergency Fleet 
 Corporation; and you are going to pay 
 back only a part of it, — seventy-five per 
 cent. The other quarter is a clear gift. 
 You have got to give us security. Receiver's 
 certificates, for the amount you are to re- 
 
 [59] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 turn, but the United Service Company is 
 getting increased facilities over the bargain 
 counter." 
 
 "We would rather not add to the road's 
 obligation, even for a bargain," began Mr. 
 Barker. 
 
 Carton ignored the remark entirely. 
 "Are you ready to sign?" he asked, in- 
 dicating certain papers on his desk. 
 
 Mr. Barker and Mr. Meekin consulted 
 apart. " We will sign," said the latter, after 
 an interval of five minutes. "But it's no 
 good unless the court confirms it." 
 
 "Oh, we can take care of the court be- 
 tween us," observed Carton optimistically. 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that," said Mr. 
 Meekin. As a busy street railway lawyer 
 he had engaged in too many controversies 
 to find joy in prolonging one after it was 
 settled, and he spoke pleasantly and in good 
 faith. " You don't know Judge Hayselden ; 
 the Receivership is in his court. He is old 
 and fussy and fidgety, and he hates to take 
 the responsibility of letting a Receiver do 
 anything. I don't think he will take kindly 
 to such an increase in indebtedness, and I 
 know he won't stand for the issue of Re- 
 ceiver's certificates." 
 
 [60] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 ^^ Is his consent really necessary? " queried 
 Jones. 
 
 ^^I am afraid it is," admitted Carton. 
 "Look here, Meekin, are you going to do 
 your best to get the agreement confirmed? " 
 
 Mr. Meekin drew out his watch. " I Ve 
 given my word," he said. "We've just got 
 time to catch the twelve-o'clock train back 
 to New York. Come with me, and we'll 
 see him in Chambers this afternoon." 
 
 II 
 
 Carton got back to Philadelphia at six 
 o'clock that afternoon and went directly to 
 the office of Mr. Hodges, Chief of the 
 Passenger Transportation Division of the 
 Emergency Fleet Corporation. The big 
 twelve-story building was still humming 
 with the industry of a beehive, although 
 under the rules employees were permitted 
 to call it a day's work when the hour of five 
 o'clock struck. Mr. Hodges and his prin- 
 cipal assistant, Mr. Jones, were sitting at 
 opposite sides of the large desk table, hard 
 at work on a plan for bettering transporta- 
 tion by ferry to a shipbuilding plant on the 
 Great Lakes. 
 
 [6i] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "Hullo, what's the good word?" asked 
 Mr. Hodges, looking up on Carton's 
 entrance. 
 
 Carton flung his hat into a chair viciously, 
 plumped down in another himself, raised 
 his clenched fists and uttered the mono- 
 syllable "Damn!" 
 
 "Take it easy, old man," remarked Mr. 
 Hodges genially, losing none of his im- 
 perturbability. "What's the matter? Did 
 Meekin squeal on his agreement? " 
 
 "No; Meekin was all right, but that old 
 devil bird of a Judge!" 
 
 "Wouldn't he confirm the agreement?" 
 asked Jones. Carton gazed at the 
 speaker, incredulous that he could ask 
 such a question. 
 
 "Confirm the agreement?" he repeated. 
 " He almost committed me for contempt of 
 court. Said he never heard of such a prop- 
 osition as permitting a road that couldn't 
 pay its present debts to pile up more. Said 
 there was no use bringing such nonsense 
 before him. When I told him these were 
 war times, he asked me if I thought he was 
 going to write himself down in his court 
 records as an ass, just because a war was 
 going on." Carton paused, and then added 
 [62] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 indignantly, "I couldn't budge the old 
 villain." 
 
 ^^ Did you tell him we could take the road 
 over?" suggested Mr. Jones. 
 
 Carton laughed. ^^ I tried that for all it 
 was worth," he answered, "and it wasn't 
 worth a cent. He said that was the best 
 thing we could do; that it would relieve 
 him of all responsibility; in short, that it 
 would suit him right down to the ground." 
 
 " It must be that he does n't understand 
 this country is actually in the war," sug- 
 gested Mr. Hodges thoughtfully. "He 
 does n't realize it." 
 
 "The only way to make him realize it," 
 said Carton with conviction, "would be to 
 ram him into a ten-inch gun and fire him off 
 on the western front." 
 
 "How did you leave matters with 
 Meekin?" queried Jones. 
 
 "After Judge Hayseiden had warned me 
 that I mustn't continue my current line of 
 conversation, I asked for an order of notice 
 so that the matter could come up in open 
 court, and he would have to go on record. 
 He gave me one for tomorrow at eleven, 
 but the last thing he did was to order 
 Meekin to bring in all the cases he could 
 
 [63] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 collect showing that courts had refused to 
 authorize agreements such as the one we 
 submitted." 
 
 " They say there is no sense in throwing 
 good money after bad, and I don't see any 
 in wasting precious time when it won't do 
 any good," observed Mr. Hodges. "Why 
 not drop the matter and start on the other 
 tack? Taking the road over, I mean. It's 
 hardly worth while for you to make another 
 trip to New York." 
 
 " You are n't beaten until you know you 
 are licked," said Carton stubbornly. "I 
 shall go to that hearing tomorrow. There 
 is n't any law on the matter ; not on our side, 
 at least. But I shall do something; prob- 
 ably argue on the facts and broad grounds 
 of public policy." He smiled and added, 
 " And you be ready to bail me out in case 
 of need." 
 
 "Just as you like," agreed Mr. Hodges. 
 He turned to his chief assistant. " Courts 
 are a great help in business matters, are n't 
 they, Jones? Who was the genius who spoke 
 of 'old father antic the law'?" 
 
 After dinner that evening, at the small 
 house in the country out on "the main 
 line," where he lived with two other Fleet 
 
 [64] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 workers, Carton took his customary stroll 
 around the grounds of Bryn Mawr College. 
 The long, low-lying grey-stone buildings 
 with mullioned windows and covered with 
 ivy were as lovely as the finest that Oxford 
 could produce. Carton sat for an hour on 
 a stone bench overlooking acres of velvet 
 lawn, deep in thought. He was not engaged 
 in the preparation of his coming address to 
 the Court on the morrow, but picturing in 
 his mind's eye scenes called up by a letter 
 he had found on his return home, a letter 
 from a young friend somewhere in France. 
 
 Ill 
 
 "The court," announced the crier in 
 stentorian tones. Counsel sitting at the 
 table inside the bar below the clerk's desk 
 rose and stood respectfully as Judge Haysel- 
 den, preceded by a red-faced court officer 
 in blue frock coat with brass buttons carry- 
 ing a white staff, himself clad in his black 
 robe of office, entered and took his seat. He 
 was a very old man, very tall and very thin. 
 His white hair was brushed straight back 
 from his high forehead. His keen eyes still 
 burned brightly under shaggy eyebrows.. 
 
 [65] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 His manner was peremptory and his voice 
 sharp and clear as he said: '^ In the matter 
 of this petition asking for confirmation of 
 an agreement between the United States and 
 the Receiver of the United States Railway- 
 Company, I desire counsel to submit au- 
 thorities. Mr. Meekin, I will hear from 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Meekin rose. He was a little terrier 
 of a man, with many of a terrier's pro- 
 pensities, but his word once given was as 
 good as his bond. 
 
 ^^Your Honor," he said, " representing the 
 receiver, I assent to confirmation of the 
 agreement." 
 
 " Have you any cases where such agree- 
 ments have been sanctioned?" 
 
 ^^ I have not. Your Honor." 
 
 " Have you any authorities where the 
 court has refused to sanction such agree- 
 ments?" 
 
 Mr. Meekin looked at Carton. 
 
 "Go ahead," consented the latter in a 
 whisper, "let him have them." 
 
 Meekin read a list of twenty or more 
 
 cases, giving citations and brief abstracts 
 
 as he went along. As the weight of the 
 
 law piled up against him. Carton became 
 
 [66] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 slightly restive. The argument he had care- 
 fully been thinking out on the train from 
 Philadelphia, began to seem too weak even 
 for utterance. Unconsciously his hand 
 slipped into the side pocket of his coat, and 
 his fingers closed on the letter he had re- 
 ceived the previous evening. 
 
 ''Mr. Carton," said His Honor, "if you 
 have any authorities to submit, you may do 
 so." 
 
 "I have something to submit, Your 
 Honor," said Carton, rising. 
 
 ''What is the citation?" asked the Judge, 
 as he dipped his pen in the ink before him. 
 
 " It is not in the books. Your Honor." 
 
 "Some decision not yet reported?" de- 
 manded the Judge. 
 
 " It is not a decision, Your Honor. It is 
 a letter which I received last night from a 
 young friend of mine in France." 
 
 The Judge looked at Carton sternly. " I 
 allow great latitude to counsel in this court," 
 he remarked, "but — " He paused, then 
 threw himself back in his chair and added, 
 " Proceed." 
 
 "The letter is dated June loth," said 
 Carton. ^^It is as follows." He read 
 slowly ; 
 
 [67] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Dear Mr. Carton: 
 
 Please pardon this paper — it 's all I have 
 just now. How time slips by in an unbelievable 
 way. It seems hardly possible that it was over 
 a year ago that you recommended me for the 
 training camp. I confess things have moved 
 with startling rapidity; much quicker than any 
 of us anticipated. 
 
 I got your good letter and mighty glad I was 
 to hear from you. You don't know what it 
 means to get news from home. I am glad you 
 have gone in for war work and think the Ship- 
 ping Board must be very interesting. I was 
 talking with my Colonel the other day, and he 
 said Gen. Pershing declared at a meeting of 
 officers recently that we would be able to walk 
 right through the Germans next year if we could 
 get enough men and supplies across the water, 
 and that the great need of the war now was 
 ships, and more ships. So you see you can feel 
 you Ve got a hand in what over here is re- 
 garded as of perhaps first importance. 
 
 But, speaking generally, I can't help feeling 
 that not all the people at home realize the true 
 state of affairs or understand what is going on. 
 I often wonder just what there is that will get it 
 across to the folks in the States. Beyond a de- 
 pression in business, some inconvenience and a 
 few personal links here and there, what does 
 it mean? I don't know. And I'm searching 
 every scrap of information I can get to find 
 out. All of us are. So are the French. 
 
 The Germans are not beaten. Do you realize 
 
 [68] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 that? And do all the people at home realize 
 It? They must before we can come out of this 
 war victorious. The power of Germany's mili- 
 tary machine, the strength of its organization, 
 is something you have got to see and feel be- 
 fore you can grasp the terror of it. I don't 
 mean we are afraid, not even I am that. But 
 I Ve just come back to a rest camp from two 
 weeks in the front trenches, and the threat of 
 the Hun hordes won't let me sleep at night. 
 We were in a sector where the German trenches 
 were very close to ours. We could feel them 
 there all the time, like some evil presence, and 
 one day they came over the top at us, wave 
 after wave of silent grey-clad men. It was not 
 like anything human. It was a miasma, a mist, 
 a noxious vapor let loose to corrupt and destroy 
 the world. We managed to hold our ground, 
 but it was truly some job. Tom Meany was 
 killed, blown to pieces in the preliminary bar- 
 rage; and Bill Simpkins, you know them both. 
 Simpkins was bayoneted through the breast, 
 after he had done for three of the Fritzes. I 
 got out without a scratch. I can't wait to go 
 back again, — honestly. I want to live as much 
 as anyone, but I 'd die a thousand times rather 
 than have that wicked nightmare of German 
 militarism impose its rule on the world. That 
 has got to be stopped; and nothing else matters, 
 nothing else in the world. I 'm afraid you '11 
 think I am talking heroics, but you wouldn't 
 if you were here. It is merely the way every- 
 one of us feels. I have lived for a long while 
 
 [69] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 in all this. For some months I have really 
 never been out of earshot of the guns, and have 
 been in a part of France where one never sees a 
 smile. Nothing exists but war, not one smallest 
 detail of life is free from the blight of it. It is 
 tremendously depressing and all very pitiful; 
 crops ripening and being burnt up by shells and 
 killed by gas; villages shot to pieces and melt- 
 ing away into bits of filth and rubbish; old 
 people carrying a few possessions and wander- 
 ing from village to village, without any special 
 hope or plan. 
 
 I like to think that nothing that can speed up 
 the machinery and grease the wheels is being left 
 undone. Occasionally one reads of strikes, and 
 I Ve often wished that the promoters of same 
 could be here, just for a few days, just long 
 enough to know what it means and long enough 
 to see and appreciate the infinite possibilities of 
 being thrown away through a slip of the cogs 
 at home. 
 
 Write me again soon, and I 'II answer it, — 
 if I can. 
 
 Yours as always, 
 
 Henry Lyall. 
 
 P.S. Hurry up those ships, old man. 
 
 There was a moment's silence in the court- 
 room. 
 
 *^ Mr. Carton," said the Judge, his eyes 
 fixed on the opposite vv^all where hung the 
 arms of the United States, ^^have you pre- 
 pared a decree?" 
 
 [70] 
 
SHIPBUILDERS 
 
 " I have, Your Honor," said Carton. 
 
 *^Mr. Meekin," continued the court, *^do 
 you wish to examine the decree before I 
 allow it?" 
 
 Meekin rose and blew his nose violently. 
 ^^ As counsel for the Receiver, Your Honor," 
 he said, in a voice which broke a little, 
 '' I urge the allowance of any decree in be- 
 half of the United States which Mr. Carton 
 has prepared." 
 
 '' That is well," said the Judge. 
 
 He took the paper passed up to him by 
 the Clerk, and the pen scratched as his 
 trembling old fingers affixed his signature. 
 
 ^' Mr. Clerk, that is entered as of today." 
 
 The old Judge rose from his chair and 
 stood erect, gathering the folds of his gown 
 around his spare figure. ^' Mr. Carton," 
 he said, with eyes still fixed on the seal 
 of his country, ^^when you answer that 
 letter, — " he paused, and the thin old lips 
 trembled so that for the moment he could 
 not go on. '^ When you answer the letter," 
 he resumed, ^^ tell that boy that the people 
 over here, even the worn-out old fossils, are 
 beginning to understand." 
 
 The Judge stood silent for a moment. 
 He lowered his gaze from the opposite wall 
 
 [71] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 and his eyes flashing, sought those of Car- 
 ton. He smiled whimsically. 
 
 '^ Hurry up those ships, old man," he said. 
 ^^ Mr. Crier, adjourn the court." 
 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 IN THE SHADE 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 IN THE SHADE 
 
 MAJOR MiXTER of the Signal Corps 
 lived in a fine house on New 
 Hampshire Avenue. It was one 
 of the few residences in the heart of Wash- 
 ington which had a garden of its own. The 
 garden ran along one side of the house and 
 reaching to the sidewalk was there ter- 
 minated by a tall fence with iron railings. 
 What rent the Major paid was the business 
 of nobody but himself, but it was sufficient. 
 The congressional resolution against rent 
 profiteering was not of much help to the 
 wealthy sojourner doing war work in Wash- 
 ington, whether in the Service or out of it; 
 very likely it was not intended to be so. 
 Stockdale was dining with Major Mixter 
 that August evening. As a matter of fact, 
 he had got far beyond the point of caring 
 with whom he dined, or whether he dined at 
 all. For three days the thermometer had 
 ranged from 105 to 1 14 degrees in the shade, 
 
 [75] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 and that afternoon in Stockdale's office it 
 had touched 120. 
 
 At ten minutes to eight Stockdale called 
 a cab, gave the address to the shirt-sleeved 
 driver and sank back on the seat in a state 
 v^hich bordered on frenzy. The heat from 
 the asphalt pavements flew up and struck 
 him in the face like a blow. His eyes 
 burned as with a fever, and he closed them 
 tightly. In air reeking with humidity he 
 panted for breath. 
 
 Presently the cab stopped. Stockdale 
 opened his eyes and got out. 
 
 "Tough weather," he remarked to the 
 driver, as he handed over a generous tip in 
 addition to the fare demanded. 
 
 " Good Lord," said the driver, wiping his 
 brow with the back of his hand, " it's awful. 
 I haven't slept two hours the last three 
 nights." 
 
 ^*Me too," observed Stockdale sympa- 
 thetically. "Take care of yourself now, 
 and don't get knocked out for the sake of 
 a few dollars." 
 
 " I won't," said the driver with emphasis. 
 " I 'm through for the day. Good-night." 
 
 There was not much of liberty or equality 
 during the hot days of the summer of 191 8 
 
 [76] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 in Washington perhaps, but there was a 
 wide-spread feeling of genuine fraternity 
 among fellow sufferers of all sorts and 
 classes. 
 
 Stockdale handed his hat to the butler 
 who opened the door, and proceeded up- 
 stairs to the library. He found himself one 
 of a party of six. There was his host, his 
 host's two house guests, — Lieut. William 
 Eccles, U. S. N., and Reginald Barton of 
 our diplomatic corps, who was awaiting in 
 Washington orders from the State Depart- 
 ment which should send him to his new post 
 as Minister to Bolivia; then there was Col. 
 Colt of the Ordnance Department, and 
 Major Wargrave, a British Staff Officer on 
 duty in Washington as a member of the 
 British Military Mission. 
 
 ^^ We've just got to take it as a joke," 
 Mixter was saying. "You can't look on it 
 as anything else. It's the record for Wash- 
 ington, and Washington is supposed to be 
 only separated from hell by a piece of brown 
 paper in Summer at any time. Did you 
 know that the automatic sprinklers in three 
 different buildings were set off by the heat 
 this afternoon? That's something to write 
 home to the family! Take off your coat, 
 
 [77] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Stockdale; this is no night for ceremony; 
 glad to see you. We '11 have a little bridge 
 after dinner, and forget it." 
 
 ^^ How do, Mixter," said Stockdale, shak- 
 ing hands, ^' I '11 do just that, and roll up 
 my sleeves too if you don't mind." 
 
 ^^ Go as far as you like," answ^ered his host 
 genially. ^^We'll all strip to the buff be- 
 fore we get through." He, Eccles and 
 Barton, as well as Stockdale, were clad in 
 white flannel trousers, white shirts and no 
 coats. Colt, having had to pass through 
 the streets, had not dared to do so without 
 being in uniform, and Major Wargrave 
 had thought it would not be proper to bring 
 mufti to this country, though since his ar- 
 rival here he had learned better as to that 
 and other things. 
 
 " Dinner is served, Major," said the butler, 
 appearing at the double door opening into 
 the hall. 
 
 "All right, Kenny," said Major Mixter. 
 " Wait a moment." He turned to his guests. 
 "Cocktails?" 
 
 "Lord, no!" came an answering chorus, 
 followed by exclamations. " Cocktails on 
 a night like this ! " and " Not on your life ! " 
 
 "I thought not," said Mixter, "that's 
 
 [78] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 why I did n't have them ready. Come on, 
 Wargrave, a bit to eat will buck us up." 
 
 ^^I recollect crossing the African desert 
 one summer," said Barton, lighting a cigar- 
 ette after the first course of cold bouillon 
 had been taken away, '^ and the heat from 
 the sands came up and biffed you just 
 the way it does on the streets here today." 
 He paused and inhaled a breath of cig- 
 arette smoke before going on. ^^ But the 
 difference is, it rather cooled off at night 
 on the desert, while here it works up to a 
 climax." 
 
 ^^What else are we having for dinner, 
 Kenny," asked Major Mix ter, as soft shelled 
 crabs were put on the table. The butler 
 coughed behind his hand in apologetic 
 fashion. '' Well, Sir," he said, " roast beef." 
 
 " Roast beef," exclaimed Mixter, " I can't 
 bear it!" 
 
 '^ I should say not," agreed Eccles. He 
 was Mixter's intimate friend, and had lived 
 with him since their wives had departed 
 from Washington in the late Spring, and 
 consequently felt quite at home. "Isn't 
 there anything else in the house?" 
 
 " For God's sake, Kenny, ask the cook to 
 dig up something cool, or something light 
 
 [79] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 anyhow," said Major Mixter. He turned 
 to his guests. ^^ As a Maine guide of mine 
 once remarked, ' If we had some ham we 
 could have some ham and eggs, if we had 
 some eggs.' " 
 
 Stockdale grinned appreciatively. " Was 
 that the guide who after coming out second 
 best in an encounter with a fox said, ^ By 
 golly, that fellow is well named ! ' " 
 
 For a moment Major Wargrave looked a 
 trifle bewildered at the laugh that ensued, 
 then his face beamed with smiles and he 
 said : " By Jove, you know, I never thought 
 of that before. Clever chap that guide. 
 I Ve hunted at home since I was a youngster, 
 and the fox is a deucedly well-named ani- 
 mal. Full of tricks, you know, and all that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 " Carry on," said Stockdale, in a whisper, 
 to Eccles who sat next to him. 
 
 " I '11 do my bit," answered Eccles in the 
 same tone. He turned a serious face to 
 Wargrave and remarked, ^^ Quite right. 
 Major, foxes are subtle creatures." 
 
 " Clever chap that guide," repeated War- 
 grave with conviction. 
 
 '^ When do you expect to go over? " asked 
 Mixter, turning to Colt. '^ Soon, isn't it?" 
 [80] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 ^^ Goodness knows," answered the Colonel. 
 *^I had my orders three weeks ago. Got 
 everything ready; said farewell to my 
 family; got as far as the pier at Hoboken, 
 when I was handed orders bringing me 
 back here." 
 
 ^^ Did you really get to Hoboken? " asked 
 Eccles, who had just been promoted to the 
 rank of full Lieutenant from that of Lieu- 
 tenant Junior Grade. ^^ That is a good deal 
 nearer the sea than I Ve got." 
 
 Mixter suddenly stared with set gaze at 
 the row of windows opening on to the 
 garden. ^^ Hold up a minute," he said in 
 tones of tense excitement, " I think I see 
 some air stirring." 
 
 Six pairs of eyes concentrated on the 
 muslin window curtains. " That one moved 
 a little bit;" exclaimed Stockdale. ^^ I saw 
 it." 
 
 Barton rose and peered out the window. 
 '^ False alarm," he remarked, turning back 
 after a prolonged inspection. "There's 
 not a leaf stirring. It looks as though we 
 might have a thunder storm though." 
 
 " Good Lord, then it really will begin to 
 heat up," observed Eccles in despairing 
 tones. 
 
 [8i] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 " Begin to heat up? " asked Major War- 
 grave incredulously. 
 
 Colt turned to him. "You see," he ex- 
 plained, "thunder storms in Washington 
 don't cool the air the way they do in other 
 places. They just suck out the last remain- 
 ing bit of life there is in it, and leave you 
 in a sort of vacuum." 
 
 "Ah, I see," said Wargrave. He did not 
 look wholly happy. "Haven't I heard," 
 he went on with considerable pertinence, 
 " that you Americans call the British cli- 
 mate beastly?" 
 
 "Very well put, old fellow," ad- 
 mitted Mixter, "you've got us this time. 
 Kenny, bring the coflfee and cigars to the 
 library." 
 
 "No bridge for me," observed Stockdale, 
 throwing himself at full length on one of 
 the three huge chintz-covered sofas in the 
 enormous library. "I've had a hard day. 
 Old Gish kept me going over contracts 
 until six-thirty." 
 
 " Nor for me either," said Eccles, light- 
 ing a cigar and sinking into a big easy-chair. 
 " I prefer to meditate." 
 
 "It's a bad habit," said Mixter, "but it 
 leaves things cosy and comfortable for the 
 [82] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 rest of us. Cut for partners. You and I, 
 Wargrave; and it's Colt's deal." 
 
 For an hour the game went on. Thunder 
 rumbled, lightning flashed, and presently 
 the rain began to come down. 
 
 ^^ If I could only have a cold bath once a 
 day," observed Eccles in dreamy tones, ** I 
 believe I would get along finely." 
 
 Major Wargrave looked up from his 
 cards with sudden interest. ^^ By Jove," he 
 remarked, ^^ that's perfectly right. The 
 cold water in my tub runs tepid ; absolutely 
 tepid, you know." 
 
 ^^Of course it does," said Mixter. 
 ^^ There's no such thing as cold water in 
 Washington in summer. It's either hot or 
 lukewarm." 
 
 Eccles strolled to the window and looked 
 out. ^^I say. Jack," he observed, "those 
 bushes by the garden fence look as though 
 they were about six feet high." 
 
 ''Well, what of it?" demanded Mixter, 
 who was playing both hands in a no 
 trumper. 
 
 " I don't believe you can see into the 
 garden from the street," continued Eccles, 
 still looking out, ''at least not unless you 
 get up on a ladder." 
 
 [83] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "What of it?" repeated Mixter. 
 
 Eccles walked over to Stockdale. " Want 
 to have a cold bath," he asked; "that is, 
 reasonably cold?" 
 
 Stockdale swung himself up to a sitting 
 position. "Where?" he demanded. 
 
 "In the garden," answered Eccles, show- 
 ing a certain amount of excitement. " We '11 
 go out and stand round in the rain and get 
 cooled off and refreshed and so forth." 
 
 " I 'm with you," said Stockdale, rising to 
 his feet. 
 
 "They won't really do it, will they?" 
 asked Wargrave of Mixter in low tones. 
 
 "Highly likely, I think," returned the 
 other aloud. " These navy men are full of 
 deviltry, you know." 
 
 "That's all right. Jack," remarked 
 Eccles, wagging his head, " don't you worry ; 
 it's not your party, you know. You all 
 stay right here and sweat; it's fine for you." 
 
 He pressed the electric bell and the butler 
 appeared. " Bring two bath-towels down to 
 the hall below, Kenny," he said briskly. 
 " Come on, Stockdale." 
 
 The two descended the stairs, undressed 
 with great rapidity and stepped out through 
 the door-window into the garden. There 
 
 [84] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 was silence for a few moments, and then 
 Stockdale observed, ^^It is rather cool, — 
 what there is of it." 
 
 '' What there is of it, is right," answered 
 Eccles, who stood with hands on knees and 
 back arched, in an endeavor to expose as 
 wide an area of his person as possible to the 
 elements, ^^but what's the matter?" He 
 gazed skyward. ^^It's raining hard and 
 yet the drops seem to dodge me." 
 
 ^^ Perhaps we are n't in far enough," sug- 
 gested Stockdale. ^^ You have to wade out, 
 you know, to get wet all over." 
 
 "Let's take hold of hands and jump up 
 and down, the way the old ladies do when 
 they're about knee deep," said Eccles. 
 
 '' Bully idea," agreed Stockdale. " I bet 
 that will do the business." 
 
 The two clasped hands and, alternately 
 squatting and rising, danced over a con- 
 siderable extent of the garden's surface. 
 
 " ^Now we go round the mulberry bush,'" 
 sang Stockdale. "Are you getting wet, old 
 top?" 
 
 "My back is damp," exclaimed Stock- 
 dale exultantly. "Upsy daisy, now, here 
 comes a big one." 
 
 "A mighty good swim," said Stockdale 
 
 [ 85 ] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 five minutes later. ^^ I 'm wet and I 'm cool ; 
 that is," he added, ^^ moderately so." 
 
 "What did I tell you! " exclaimed Eccles 
 triumphantly, as he rubbed himself vigor- 
 ously with a huge crash towel. " Put your 
 trust in a light-hearted sailor man and you 
 can't go far wrong. 
 
 " ' There 's a sweet little cherub 
 Who sits up aloft 
 To look out for the life of poor Jack! ' *' 
 
 The two dressed leisurely and ascended 
 to the library in time to hear a vigorous 
 ring at the front doorbell. 
 
 In a moment or two Kenny appeared and 
 said: "Captain Black arid Captain White 
 of the Army Intelligence Department to 
 see you. Major." 
 
 "Bring 'em up," said Mixter, shuffling 
 the cards for the next deal. 
 
 "Who are they? Do you know them. 
 Jack?" queried Eccles. 
 
 " I know lots of people," answered Mix- 
 ter enigmatically, " lots and lots of people." 
 
 Captain Black and Captain White ap- 
 peared in the doorway, two young men in 
 uniform, twenty-three or twenty-four years 
 old. 
 
 [86] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 ^^Come in," called Major Mixter over 
 his shoulder. ^' Excuse me for not getting 
 up ; but, as you see, I 'm in the middle of a 
 game. Make yourself at home. Will you 
 have something to smoke?" 
 
 Captain White and Captain Black en- 
 tered the room, but stood erect near the 
 door. Each was perspiring profusely, but 
 both looked keen and intent on the business 
 in hand. " Major Mixter," said the latter, 
 ^^we came in to ask permission to search 
 your house." His tone was courteous, but 
 it implied very clearly that if the permis- 
 sion were not forthcoming the representa- 
 tives of the Intelligence Department could 
 get along very well without it. 
 
 *^ Search away," assented Mixter coolly, 
 though he raised his eye-brows a trifle. '' Is 
 it fair to ask what you are looking for?" 
 
 Captain White and Captain Black con- 
 sulted in undertones. Captain White spoke. 
 '' I don't believe there is any harm in saying 
 we 're after two escaped German prisoners. 
 They got away from Camp Meigs this 
 afternoon." 
 
 ^^ Camp Meigs," observed Mixter thought- 
 fully. ^^ That's just on the outskirts of 
 Washington, is n't it?" 
 
 [87] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 " It is," said Captain Black, taking up th,e 
 tale. ^^ These two men passed the guard 
 somehow or other, and cleared out, leav- 
 ing their clothes behind them, — to avoid 
 recognition, we suppose. It is believed they 
 are somewhere in this city." 
 
 "What, without clothes?" demanded 
 Mixter. 
 
 " It seems incredible," admitted Captain 
 White, "^but there's no doubt they left 
 everything; and the point is, that Captain 
 Black and I are sure we saw two naked men 
 in your garden not half an hour ago." 
 
 Major Wargrave started to say some- 
 thing, but he was interrupted by Stockdale, 
 whose trained legal instinct had already 
 scented trouble ahead. "What makes you 
 think these men you saw in Major Mixter's 
 garden, if you saw any, were your Ger- 
 mans?" he asked. 
 
 "Who else could it have been?" de- 
 manded Captain Black, with some heat. 
 "Who else would make such a display of 
 themselves?" 
 
 "There's a city ordinance against that 
 sort of thing," went on Captain White. " It 
 provides the penalty of a jail sentence, with- 
 out option of a fine. As a matter of fact, 
 [88] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 our Department has orders to assist in the 
 enforcement of all local ordinances, and if 
 these men weren't the Germans, well — 
 we're after them just the same. However, 
 we believe they were the Germans. No one 
 else would take such a risk, would they?" 
 
 ^^ I should say not," agreed Stockdale 
 emphatically. He darted a vicious glance 
 at Eccles. '' No one but an idiot would even 
 suggest doing such a thing." 
 
 Eccles, as he himself had already hinted, 
 had not reached any nearer to a quarter- 
 deck than the corner of 17th and G Streets, 
 but the fine traditions of the American 
 Navy stood him in good stead. 
 
 "Now you speak of it," he said, mean- 
 while surreptitiously mopping his damp hair 
 with his handkerchief, " I think I saw some- 
 thing of the kind you mention myself. Only 
 I did n't see but one man. He seemed to be 
 performing a curious sort of antics. You 
 remember I spoke to you about it. Stock- 
 dale?" 
 
 Stockdale hesitated the fraction of a sec- 
 ond before he replied : " That 's so, you did ; 
 and I saw one man myself; silly looking ass 
 he was, too, as far as I could make out." 
 
 " But we 're sure there were two men," 
 
 [89] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 exclaimed Captains White and Black 
 together. 
 
 " Do you see any escaped Germans in this 
 room?" queried Mixter. 
 
 '' Oh, no ! Major," Captain Black hastened 
 to disclaim. ^^We didn't expect to find 
 them in this room. We thought they might 
 have got into the servants' quarters down- 
 stairs. We have found pro-Germans 
 among servants occasionally." 
 
 ^^ By Jove," exclaimed Major Wargrave 
 in heartfelt tones, ^4hat's right; rout the 
 beggars out." He went on with his deal, 
 but was heard to mutter disjointedly the 
 words, ^^Damn Sein Feiners," "Rotters" 
 and " Coercion of Ulster." 
 
 "Well, search the whole house," said 
 Major Mixter. "Or, wait a minute, I'll 
 have my butler up. He 's been with me ten 
 years, and I trust him absolutely. Ring the 
 bell, will you, Billy?" 
 
 Lieut. Eccles crossed the room and 
 pressed the electric button. He stood by 
 the door until the butler appeared at the 
 head of the stairs, and saluted that faithful 
 serving man with such a series of winks, 
 frowns and nods as caused the latter to 
 enter the room with trembling trepidation. 
 
 [90] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 ^' Kenny," said Major Mixter, '' have you 
 two naked men in the kitchen?" 
 
 The butler stared at his employer in 
 amazement. Then a happy thought oc- 
 curred to him, and his usual placid expres- 
 sion returned. Of course, it was natural 
 enough that the heat of the last few days 
 had been too much for the Major and had 
 addled his brains temporarily. 
 
 ^^No, Major," he began soothingly. 
 ^*No, Major, I haven't a naked man nor 
 a naked wom — " 
 
 ^^That will do, Kenny," said Major 
 Mixter sharply. ^^ I 'm asking about two 
 escaped German prisoners, — men," he 
 added with emphasis. 
 
 The butler's perplexity returned in full 
 flood. He stood speechless, his eyes roving 
 about the room. 
 
 ^^ Did you see anything unusual in the 
 garden within the last hour?" demanded 
 Captain White, in tones of stern cross- 
 examination. 
 
 Kenny's roving eye happened to catch 
 that of Stockdale, and was arrested in its 
 course. An emphatic shake of the head on 
 the part of the latter, accompanied by a wink, 
 seemed to furnish him with a ray of light. 
 
 [91] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "Well, Sir," said the butler, who had 
 been a fascinated spectator of the bathing 
 scene from the vantage point of the dining- 
 room window, " about half or three quarters 
 of an hour ago I did seem to see something 
 kind of white and glistening in the garden, 
 but I took it to be only a shadder." 
 
 " But, are there any strangers down- 
 stairs?" demanded Major Mixter. 
 
 "No, Sir, not a stranger," responded 
 Kenny promptly, and with obvious veracity, 
 " not a stranger, man, woman, child, dog or 
 cat." 
 
 "Will you look for yourselves?" asked 
 the Major politely. 
 
 Captain White and Captain Black again 
 consulted in an undertone. "Thank you. 
 Major," said the latter, " we 're quite satis- 
 fied those Germans aren't here." 
 
 " If they were in the garden," went on 
 Mixter, "they probably escaped through 
 the stables at the back." 
 
 " Of course, I don't want to put my oar 
 in if it's not wanted," suggested Lieut. 
 Eccles, whose spirits had begun to soar. 
 " I shouldn't say a word if I hadn't talked 
 a lot with one of our naval intelligence 
 officers who has given me some valuable 
 
 [92] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 pointers about this sort of thing. Now I 
 don't believe myself that two men without 
 clothes would stay very long in the centre 
 of Washington, even if they were Germans. 
 From what this naval intelligence sharp has 
 told me about escapes and all that, I reason 
 these men would try to get out of town 
 where they could perhaps borrow or steal 
 some clothes." He paused and observed 
 that Captain White and Captain Black were 
 listening with profound attention. ^^ My 
 advice," he went on modestly, " such as it 
 is and for what it is worth, is to look for 
 them down on the docks by the river." 
 
 Captain White turned to Captain Black. 
 "Not a bad idea, I think?" 
 
 "A very good one," assented Captain 
 Black heartily. 
 
 " One moment," said Stockdale. " I don't 
 wish to seem to belittle the Lieutenant's 
 suggestion; it's a valuable one; the docks 
 should be searched, certainly. But con- 
 sider for an instant. Would n't two naked 
 men wish to get out of town by the swiftest 
 means of transportation? Very well. Try 
 the docks by all means, but first look in the 
 waiting-room of the Union Station." 
 
 " Very good," said Captain White. 
 
 [93] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 *^Very good," repeated Captain Black. 
 ^^ Major, thanks for your courtesy and as- 
 sistance. Good-night." 
 
 '' Ring the bell again. Bill," said Mixter 
 after the front door was heard to shut. 
 ^^That was a close shave for you two all 
 right." 
 
 "You bet it was," admitted Eccles as 
 he pushed the electric button once more. 
 "You took it mighty well, Jack. We'd 
 have been lost except for you." 
 
 "And Kenny," suggested Stockdale. 
 
 "And Kenny," agreed Eccles as the butler 
 appeared in the doorway. 
 
 " Take this notice and tack it up on the 
 door leading from the hall into the garden," 
 said Major Mixter, as he handed over a 
 leaf from the bridge score, on the reverse 
 side of which he had been doing some 
 printing. 
 
 " Very good, Sir," said the butler, taking 
 the paper and turning towards the door. 
 He glanced at the legend and read: "No 
 sea-bathing in this garden." 
 
 "Very good. Sir," he repeated. He 
 crossed the threshold and then turned back 
 into the room once more. " What a differ- 
 ence war and summer weather in Washing- 
 
 [94] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 ton had made in the relations of servants 
 with their employers," thought Kenny. 
 '' Gentlemen were quite willing to talk, and 
 treated servants really human like." 
 
 *^ I wonder," he ventured, ^^if they'll 
 catch them two Germans." 
 
 '' I don't think they will, Kenny," said 
 Eccles. ^^You see, Mr. Stockdale and I 
 felt sorry for them. Possibly we didn't 
 give those intelligence service men quite as 
 much of a clue as we might have done." 
 
 '^ I felt sorry for them too. Sir," said 
 Kenny with a broad smile, which he dis- 
 tributed pretty equally between the Lieu- 
 tenant and Stockdale. 
 
 ^^ Quite right of you, Kenny," observed 
 the latter. '^ Should we be utterly heartless 
 just because we 're at war? No, a thousand 
 times No ! Lieut. Eccles feels as I do, only 
 perhaps more strongly so. He wants to 
 give you something, Kenny, to show he ap- 
 preciates that kind hearts are more than 
 coronets." 
 
 '' Match you for it," muttered Eccles to 
 Stockdale. ^^ Here, Kenny, I guess you've 
 earned it." He fished in his pockets and 
 handed over a ten dollar bill to the gratified 
 butler. 
 
 [95] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Major Mixter was adding up the score 
 of the final rubber. ^^ Fourteen hundred 
 points," he said. ^^ Take away five hundred 
 and fifty-two — " 
 
 ^^ I say," interrupted Major Wargrave, 
 ^^ I know you fellows would n't do anything 
 that was n't perfectly top-hole and all that, 
 but you know in my country if we'd had 
 two escaped Germans about, every man 
 Jack of us would have been out and after 
 them." 
 
 ^^ Eight hundred and forty-eight points," 
 went on Mixter. *^You don't really think 
 there were any escaped Germans, do you, 
 Wargrave?" 
 
 Eccles and Stockdale sat up with a jerk, 
 as though a pin had suddenly been inserted 
 in the anatomy of each. 
 
 ^^I didn't suppose anyone would really 
 believe that. White and Black are two nice 
 boys. They room together in the next block 
 but one. They're great friends of mine, 
 and I try to give them a little diversion 
 whenever I can, — dinner or theatre party, 
 or something like that. You remember I 
 was dummy when these two loons began 
 doing living pictures in my garden, and that 
 I went upstairs to telephone? Well, I fixed 
 
 [96] 
 
ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN 
 
 it up with White and Black then. They 
 did it very well, I thought." 
 
 ^^ Villain," shouted Eccles, hurling the 
 epithet and a sofa pillow at his host with 
 utmost vehemence. 
 
 '' Idiot," groaned Stockdale with evident 
 reference to himself, as he fell limply back 
 on the sofa. 
 
 "Oh, I see," said Major Wargrave. 
 " Very clever, good sport, and all that sort 
 of thing. Well, I must be toddlin'. Had 
 a ripping evening!" 
 
 " Must you go? " asked Mixter. "Well, 
 come soon again, old fellow. We'll have 
 lots of bridge when it gets cooler. Good- 
 night." 
 
 " Good-night, Major," echoed the others. 
 
 Major Wargrave went downstairs wear- 
 ing a somewhat puzzled expression. At the 
 front door, as the sound of laughter from 
 the living-room floated over the banister 
 and down the stairway, he paused to shake 
 his head. 
 
 The thermometer had dropped to a hun- 
 dred, and Major Wargrave was able to drag 
 his weary steps to the Hotel Grafton and 
 to walk the three flights of stairs to his room, 
 for the elevator had stopped running. He 
 
 [97] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 sat for some time trying to reconcile the 
 events of the evening with the fact that the 
 men with whom he had spent it were re- 
 puted to be among the most tireless and 
 effective workers in America's great war 
 machine. After consuming two cigarettes in 
 the attempt, he decided the result sought 
 would not be worth further effort. 
 
 He undressed and lay an aching head on 
 his pillow. 
 
 "An awful climate," he murmured, " and 
 a strange people." 
 
 The soothing whir of the electric fan by 
 his bed made him drowsy. Soon he was 
 asleep, and dreamed of a trim red brick 
 Elizabethan house, with a broad expanse 
 of velvet lawn in front, and green hedges, 
 and roses full blooming in May. 
 
 [98] 
 
ALL QUIET ALONG THE 
 POTOMAC 
 
ALL QUIET ALONG THE 
 POTOMAC 
 
 THE Cosmopolitan Club at lunch 
 presented, in animated form, an ab- 
 breviated version of " Who 's Who in 
 America" in war times. Alone by the 
 window, on the H Street end of the large 
 dining-room on the top floor, sat the Sec- 
 retary of State, a pleasant-faced gentleman 
 with white hair and mustache, whose ap- 
 pearance indicated a potentiality for diplo- 
 macy according to the most polite formulas. 
 At a table on the side of the room, also 
 sitting alone, was the builder of the Panama 
 Canal. A big man in every way, with broad 
 shoulders, rather heavy, large round face 
 adorned with a small white mustache and 
 surmounted by a head of scanty white hair, 
 he looked the beau ideal figure of a soldier. 
 Famous for the charm of his manners in 
 private intercourse, it was jokingly re- 
 ported that he displayed in his office the 
 [loi] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 same careful regard for the amenities that 
 might have been expected of a grizzly bear. 
 Nearby, a tall, slightly built man, with wavy 
 iron-grey hair and the features of an artist or 
 dreamer, seemed to need no change of cos- 
 tume or appearance to walk on the stage at 
 a moment's notice in the part of one of the 
 musicians in Warfield's '' Music Master." 
 It was the head of the almost all-powerful 
 War Industries Board. A broad-shoul- 
 dered young man, a mere boy in appear- 
 ance with thick head of hair and virile 
 features, leaned eagerly forward over the 
 table as he discussed with his constant com- 
 panion and Fidus Achates the possibility of 
 a trip overseas in a destroyer. As Assistant 
 Secretary of the Navy, multifold duties 
 held him in Washington; but he meant to 
 go or know the reason why. Entering the 
 room in earnest conversation with three 
 companions, a short man with somewhat 
 tousled hair and smooth, youthful face, 
 which just missed deserving the epithet 
 ^^ chubby," glanced around the room with 
 sharp eyes, as though about to utter the 
 warning, ^^Food will win the war; don't 
 waste it." Generals with two stars and with 
 one star were here and there, and Colonels, 
 [102] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 Lieut. Colonels and Majors, especially the 
 last, were everywhere. Arithmetic itself 
 could not keep up with the Majors in Wash- 
 ington in the year 191 8. A fair sprinkling 
 of British and French officers there was too; 
 a few Italians, and with them a single figure 
 in a strange, dark brown uniform, a rep- 
 resentative of the new Czecho-Slovak na- 
 tion. The other seats in the overcrowded 
 room were occupied by mere nobodies, tiny 
 cogs in the war machine, but nevertheless 
 human beings. 
 
 " Let 's make a day of it in the country, 
 Sunday," suggested Lieut. William Eccles, 
 U. S. N., to Stockdale of the Camp Service 
 Division, O. Q. M. G., who sat opposite 
 him at the table for two. " It's rotten stay- 
 ing in town, and Chevy Chase is just as bad. 
 Let 's you and Mixter and I motor out along 
 the Potomac, take our lunch with us, and 
 spend the day with good old nature." 
 
 '^ Sort of a picnic? " queried Stockdale. 
 
 "Picnic is right," answered Eccles. "I 
 will get Mixter to have lunch put up ; we '11 
 take my car, and go out beyond Cabin 
 John and find a place where we won't see 
 a soul, and where we can sag back and talk 
 about golf, or baseball, or old college 
 
 [103] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 days, or turkey trotting or anything except 
 the war." 
 
 *^ Sounds all right," assented Stockdale. 
 
 ^^It's a date then. Mixter and I will 
 pick you up here at ten-thirty, or say eleven 
 o'clock so as to give the Sunday breakfast a 
 chance." 
 
 "How about Phil Tresham?" 
 
 " Bring him, by all means. I like him. 
 Old friend of yours, isn't he?" 
 
 "Lifelong," answered Stockdale. "^We 
 twa hae played about the banks ' and in lots 
 of other places besides. His family has 
 taken the war fairly seriously. Tresham 
 has got three brothers with the A. E. F. 
 I wish you could know the youngest one, 
 Jim. He is a captain of a field battery, 
 26th Division. He is about the most at- 
 tractive human being I have ever laid eyes 
 on. He is awfully good-looking, lively, 
 fond of a good time, but with a serious side 
 to him too. He had just been admitted into 
 partnership in one of the biggest and best 
 firms in Boston when we got into the war. 
 He had been married for about a year. 
 Going was some sacrifice." 
 
 "It's wonderful the way that has been 
 done all over the country. Tell Tresham 
 [104] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 to come sure. Hello, Harry, how is rubber? 
 Elastic enough to meet the demand, or are 
 you still ruining the tire manufacturers?" 
 
 Mr. Bligh, of the rubber section of 
 the War Industries Board, a short, smooth- 
 faced individual wearing spectacles and a 
 perennial smile of good humor, tapped the 
 Lieutenant on the back before he answered, 
 ^^ Rubber is stretching, my boy; going to 
 have plenty for the U. S. Army; but naval 
 lieutenants stationed in Washington, who 
 sport a private car, had better keep their 
 mileage low. You won't be able to buy any 
 more tires, Billy, if the war keeps on." 
 
 " Don't you worry about me," responded 
 Eccles. " I 'm fond of walking." 
 
 '^That's the boy!" exclaimed Mr. Bligh 
 heartily. " Keep those sea legs of yours in 
 condition. You may be ordered to cross — 
 on the Jersey City ferry — at any moment. 
 Preparedness is what you want to keep in 
 mind." 
 
 ^^How are you standing the weather, 
 Bligh?" inquired Stockdale. 
 
 ^^Fine!" answered the rubber man. 
 ^^ Fine, what there is left of me to stand it. 
 Sixteen pounds have slipped away since 
 these little eyes first saw the day. July first 
 
 [105] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 is the day I refer to. Last week during the 
 hot spell I thought once or twice that they 
 would have to remove me through a hose, 
 but that danger passed over and now I am 
 not afraid of anything. Good-bye boys. I 
 wouldn't eat so much at this time of year 
 if I were you." 
 
 "He is a cheerful soul, isn't he?" said 
 Stockdale, as Mr. Bligh departed to ex- 
 change conversational scraps with the oc- 
 cupants of a table some distance away. 
 
 " Cheerful and a wonder," answered 
 Eccles. "He is the sort of man who is 
 keeping the home fires burning all right! 
 He's Treasurer of the Goodfisk Rubber 
 Company, one of the largest concerns in 
 the country. It has heaps of government 
 orders, and he was doing sure enough war 
 work right in his own business. But they 
 wanted him down here, and he came flying. . 
 Brought down eight or ten of his own office 
 force; pays their wages out of the dollar a 
 year he gets himself, and is controlling the 
 rubber industry of the country with so much 
 sauviter in modo and such efficiency that no 
 one has a kick coming anywhere." 
 
 "He looks as though he liked it," ob- 
 served Stockdale. 
 
 [106] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 "Bligh likes any sort of hard work," 
 answered Eccles, ^^ and he loves this because 
 it makes him feel he is helping to beat the 
 Germans." 
 
 ^' And yet he will never get a bit of credit 
 for it," said Stockdale. 
 
 *^ Credit is the last thing he is looking for; 
 he doesn't want a ribband to stick in his 
 coat. He has got a job he knows he can do, 
 and is as happy as a lark. And work — 
 I never saw anything like it! Last week I 
 found I could get off on Friday night, so 
 I thought I would run on to Boston and 
 thence to Beverly to see the Missis and the 
 kids. I couldn't get even an upper berth 
 and was going to give it up when I hap- 
 pened to run into Bligh. He had a state- 
 room and insisted I should share it with 
 him. Incidentally he wouldn't let me pay 
 anything for it, but that isn't the point. 
 I waited for him at the gate until I thought 
 we had missed the train sure, when up 
 dashed Bligh carrying a big portfolio of 
 papers and followed by Bulkeley, his as- 
 sistant, with another one. We all three 
 swung aboard the train just as it began to 
 move, and piled into the stateroom. It 
 wasn't the hottest day — the thermometer 
 
 [ 107 ] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 was only a hundred or so — but that state- 
 room was a cosy corner in Hades all right. 
 With hardly a word, Bligh and Bulkeley 
 stripped to their undershirts and then sat 
 down to finish up the day's work. Bulkeley 
 would hand Bligh a paper out of one of the 
 portfolios, Bligh would read it, think a 
 minute or two, gazing with an expression of 
 wrapt beatitude at the roof of the car, and 
 then give some instructions which Bulkeley 
 would jot down. They kept at it tooth and 
 nail; never let up for an instant. When we 
 got to the Baltimore tunnel, of course there 
 stopped being any air at all and I was 
 choking and gasping for breath, like a cod- 
 fish in the bottom of a dory, but those two 
 worked on, all serene, and finished up the 
 second portfolio just in time for Bulkeley 
 to hop off the train as we were pulling out 
 of Baltimore. He was going to take the 
 next train back to Washington and keep 
 things moving until Bligh's return on Mon- 
 day morning. Really, it was quite a sight. 
 Bligh sat there sweating freely; no, ^ freely' 
 is too small a word ; he was running rivers ; 
 his eyes twinkling through his spectacles 
 and grinning all the time as though he were 
 listening to Al Jolson singing * And Every- 
 thing.' " [ io8 ] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 ^^ He must be a good man," said Stock- 
 dale. He looked up. ^' There is Mixter 
 now." 
 
 Eccles glanced towards the door where 
 Major Mixter of the Signal Corps stood 
 talking on apparently intimate terms with 
 the white-haired old head-waiter. The 
 latter's face was beaming with smiles, and 
 he nodded his head repeatedly. 
 
 *^ I '11 go and nail Jack for Sunday now," 
 said Eccles. ^^ No use in letting a good idea 
 get cold." 
 
 II 
 
 About twenty miles out from Wash- 
 ington, Mixter, Eccles and Stockdale 
 (Tresham having sent word at the last 
 moment he could not come), had finished 
 their picnic lunch under the boughs of a 
 huge oak on the high bank overhanging the 
 Maryland side of the Potomac. Beneath 
 them the wide, muddy river flowed lazily 
 along. Its thickly wooded shores stretched 
 out as far as the eye could see. On the 
 nearer side a canal-boat tied up to the shore 
 gave the only sign of life. On its deck sat 
 a man and a woman reading newspapers, 
 [109] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 while two small children played about. 
 The day was hot and still, but there seemed 
 to be more air than in Washington; some- 
 how it was easier to breathe. 
 
 ^^ Peaceful," said Stockdale, stretching 
 himself out on the grass beneath the oak 
 and lighting a cigarette. 
 
 ^* Lord, yes," agreed Mixter, who sat with 
 his back against the tree. 
 
 "Not a bad idea of little Willie's," ob- 
 served Eccles. "If it wasn't for me you 
 would both be reading all the Sunday 
 papers at the Cosmopolitan Club." 
 
 " Or hearing Steve Gray explain why this 
 had become another Twenty Years' War," 
 said Stockdale. 
 
 "Or Bill McCoon point out that 
 Pershing would n't have any troops fit to 
 go into action until the spring of next year," 
 suggested Mixter. "He doesn't consider 
 what they did at Chateau-Thierry or in 
 wiping out the Soissons-Rheims Salient 
 going into action, because they were under 
 the command of the French." 
 
 " He must be a military expert," observed 
 Stockdale. " You can get up quite a repu- 
 tation as a military expert if you belly-ache 
 enough." 
 
 [no] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 ^^Well, he's not here, thank the Lord," 
 said Eccles with satisfaction. ^^The Sun- 
 day situation has been saved by the initiative 
 of the American Navy." 
 
 The three seekers after nature smoked 
 for some moments in silence. All were 
 dressed in white flannel trousers, soft shirts, 
 and outing coats. Stockdale was a civilian, 
 and Mixter and Eccles gave a liberal inter- 
 pretation to the orders of their respective 
 services permitting officers to dofif uniforms 
 when engaged in physical exercise. Motor- 
 ing out into the country and there lying flat 
 on the back under a tree was felt by both 
 to come properly under the head of exercise. 
 
 ^^ I wonder," observed Stockdale lazily, 
 "how many officers there are stationed in 
 Washington?" 
 
 "Army or navy?" queried Eccles. 
 
 " Both." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," answered Eccles, 
 "five thousand; ten thousand; fifty thou- 
 sand; — quite a lot anyway." 
 
 " It would seem so from your figures," 
 agreed Stockdale. "They sound accurate 
 and convincing." 
 
 " Mighty few privates," remarked Mixter. 
 
 "It doesn't bother me because I am a 
 
 [III] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 civilian," said Stockdale, ^^but it bothers 
 some people. I was walking down Seven- 
 teenth Street the other day, and just in front 
 of me was a strapping big sergeant of in- 
 fantry. He wa3 saluting somebody at every 
 step, arm going up and down like a pump 
 handle. I caught up with him and he 
 grabbed me by the shoulder. ^ Blankety 
 blank, blank, blank,' he remarked, ^this is 
 a hell of a nice place for an enlisted man.' " 
 
 *^It can't be helped," observed Eccles. 
 ^^ Officers must be saluted, even though in a 
 place like Washington it's a nuisance all 
 round. But I do sympathize with that 
 sergeant. In a camp I suppose there are a 
 hundred enlisted men, roughly, to every 
 commissioned officer; here it is at least as 
 much the other way round. So that ser- 
 geant, alone and single-handed, was doing 
 the saluting for ten thousand men." 
 
 ^^ Figures are evidently your strong point. 
 Bill," observed Stockdale. 
 
 '' It is a pity," said Mixter, '' that those of 
 us who are doing office work wear the same 
 uniform as men who are out with troops. I 
 wish it could be different, or distinguished 
 in some way. They considered doing some- 
 thing of the kind, but never got along with 
 it.'* [112] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 "You may be ordered anywhere," said 
 Stockdale. " You don't know that you will 
 stay anchored to Washington." 
 
 " I do," said Eccles. A somber look re- 
 placed his generally cheerful expression. 
 "When I came up for a commission I could 
 not pass the physical examination. They 
 finally took me, but the Surgeon Gen- 
 eral's office wrote on the back of my physical 
 report ' Waived for office work only.' " 
 
 "Cheer up, Bill," said Mixter, "you are 
 no worse ofif than lots of others. I don't con- 
 sider myself much of a soldier." 
 
 " There are a lot of us in the Quartermas- 
 ter's Department," observed Stockdale, who 
 have remained civilians though we prob- 
 ably could have commissions if we wanted 
 them. I am afraid we don't because of selfish 
 reasons. Sometimes I put it on the ground 
 that it is n't right to be dressed as a soldier 
 unless you are more closely connected with 
 combat than by spending your days in han- 
 dling business matters by means of a com- 
 plicated system of correspondence; but I 
 guess that is n't the real reason. The truth 
 is, it would worry me sick to do office work 
 under military orders. At present I can 
 talk freely with Colonels, and even Gen- 
 
 [113] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 erals, and stand up for what I think is right 
 with a decent independence; besides, I 
 really think civilians are less susceptible to 
 that habit-forming germ known as ^ passing 
 the buck.' But there is something lacking 
 just the same. By going into uniform 
 you both have given up something, 
 and as a result you Ve got a stronger 
 sense of being in the Service. The 
 great statesmen down at the far end of 
 Pennsylvania Avenue can talk all they want 
 about wearing spurs to keep your feet from 
 slipping off the deck; if they were in uni- 
 form they might not take quite so jocular 
 a view of the matter. Personally, I am 
 too well settled as I am to make any 
 change; but both of you are going to feel 
 a satisfaction after the war that I won't 
 enjoy." 
 
 ^^ I should n't worry about that if I were 
 you/' observed Mixter. "There is a lot 
 of energy used up in conscientious hair- 
 splitting. I know lots of civilians in Wash- 
 ington who wish they were in uniform, and 
 lots of men in uniform who think they could 
 do better work as civilians. It does n't make 
 any difference, as long as everybody gets 
 on with his job." 
 
 [114] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 '^ It's some job picking a job," said Stock- 
 dale. ^^ I have never got over the w^hirl and 
 confusion of my first three days' visit, be- 
 fore I came on for good. I had been told 
 I was too old for a line commission, and 
 I did n't see much good in anything else. I 
 was wrong, of course, but that is the way 
 I felt. Then they wrote and asked me to 
 take the legal section in the Camp Service 
 Division. It was a new thing, and when 
 I looked it over I could n't tell what kind 
 of a bird it might prove to be when hatched. 
 As I was in Washington I thought I might 
 as well look round a bit; so I started in call- 
 ing at offices of men I happened to know. 
 Honestly, everyone of them either offered 
 me a job or knew of one waiting just round 
 the corner. There was a place with the 
 Shipping Board, a commission in the In- 
 telligence Department, U. S. A., a job on 
 the legal staff of the Oil Administrator, a 
 chance to go to Roumania for the Food 
 Commission, and I can't remember what 
 else, but there were others. When I was n't 
 talking jobs I was lunching at the Club or 
 the Shoreham or the Willard, and seeing 
 everyone I had ever heard of walking round 
 as casual and common as the house fly: 
 
 [115 1 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Tumulty, Daniels, Lane, Baker and lots of 
 others whom I had regarded more or less 
 as fabulous monsters. The crowds on the 
 street cars and the mobs pouring out of 
 government offices in the afternoon made 
 my eyes bulge out, and I got so much inside 
 dope on the aircraft situation that my hair 
 stood on end. I guess everybody's hair did 
 that when they talked aircraft. Taking the 
 third degree, as a preliminary to getting into 
 a government office-building, the process 
 being accompanied by personally hostile 
 glances from suspicious men in blue coats 
 and brass buttons, made me so nervous that I 
 felt the imminence of arrest and incarcera- 
 tion hovering over me night and day. Be- 
 fore leaving home I had telegraphed to the 
 Willard for a room. When I got here, of 
 course there was nothing doing. I tried 
 eight other hotels, all I could locate, and 
 each one of them gave me as cordial a wel- 
 come as though I was the Scarlet Fever. 
 Finally, Phil Tresham agreed to let me 
 sleep on the couch in his sitting room. By 
 the time that haven of refuge appeared on 
 my horizon my power of independent voli- 
 tion had evaporated, and my morale would 
 have disgraced Austria. I couldn't sleep 
 [ii6] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 at night, and my head swam, until I got 
 home and had a breathing spell." 
 
 '' It's fierce until you get used to it," said 
 Eccles. ^^Why did you choose the Camp 
 Service job?" 
 
 '^ I got so confused by the multiplicity of 
 ways in which I could win the war that the 
 only safe course seemed to be grabbing the 
 job which had taken the trouble to look me 
 up. I don't know whether I am accom- 
 plishing anything or not. Half the time I 
 think I might as well be at home; better, 
 in fact." 
 
 "The truth of the matter," observed 
 Mixter, "is that most of the work in Wash- 
 ington is not only uncongenial, but doesn't 
 give any solid satisfaction or sense of ac- 
 complishment. Nothing does that in war 
 times but fighting, I imagine. We are here 
 because we would be so miserable at home 
 that we couldn't stand it; but I am under 
 no delusions as to being a patriot. If I am 
 doing any good it is so much clear gain." 
 
 " After all," said Stockdale, " it is a big 
 privilege to be where you can see a miracle 
 take place before your very eyes." 
 
 " You mean the way the country is back- 
 ing up the war?" asked Mixter. 
 
 [117] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 ^^ That and the scale on which things are 
 being done. I have always pictured myself as 
 an optimist, but in my most soaring moments 
 I never supposed the U. S. could get going 
 the way it actually has done. Not a day 
 goes by that I don't wonder at the vision 
 of the men who are running things. Their 
 conception of what they have got to do is so 
 big that I feel as though my mind was born 
 shrivelled." 
 
 " As though you were a sort of pin-head," 
 suggested Eccles helpfully. 
 
 ^^Less than that," answered Stockdale. 
 " I remember so well the way things were 
 done in the Spanish War. At that time I 
 was helping to defend the North Shore of 
 Massachusetts from possible excesses on the 
 part of the Spanish fleet, with some muzzle- 
 loading artillery, — Civil War relics. Slip- 
 shod, is the way to describe things then. 
 Not only that, but the point of view was 
 small — picayune. Now, nothing is too big, 
 too expensive, or too much work for us to 
 tackle. If we need ordnance, we buy land, 
 build a brand-new plant of enormous extent, 
 put up houses for the workmen to live in, 
 take over the whole output of a copper 
 mine, and go at it from the ground up; the 
 [ii8] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 same with ships; with aeroplanes; with 
 everything. American initiative, American 
 enterprise, and the American way of han- 
 dling big problems is showing up as hand- 
 somely as the heroine in a movie. I see that 
 the optimism on which I used to pride 
 myself is a pretty poor, weak sort of thing. 
 Its foundations lay in taking for granted 
 that everything would somehow turn out 
 all right, no matter what was done. The 
 real thing in American optimism consists 
 in the belief that while what seems 
 impossible is staring you in the face, it 
 can be done as easily as blowing on your 
 hands." 
 
 ^^You have touched on one striking fea- 
 ture of what you describe not inaccurately 
 as a miracle," observed Mixter, ^^ but there 
 is another. That is the universal willing- 
 ness of people. There has never been any- 
 thing like it. I am a business man; if I 
 know anything it is the business man's point 
 of view; the way he looks on things, and 
 his attitude toward affairs generally, par- 
 ticularly toward government interference. 
 It is the one thing he hates and dreads. 
 Yet, what is happening today? The War 
 Industries Board, the War Trade Board, 
 
 [119] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 the Food Administration, all the regular 
 Departments, and Lord knows what else, 
 are butting in on the most minute opera- 
 tions of every business in the country. 
 Any kicks? A few now and then; but 
 by and large every business man in the 
 country is falling over himself in his eager- 
 ness to do as he is asked. He wants to 
 get into the game somehow, and if cutting 
 down his output one half is the only way 
 he can do it, that seems to him better than 
 nothing. There are a few profiteers hover- 
 ing around like buzzards, but they are not 
 a drop in the bucket." 
 
 "Hello, there comes a steamboat," said 
 Eccles, sitting up. " I did n't know any- 
 thing ran on the old Potomac now-days." 
 
 Round the bend in the river ahead came 
 a lumbering old-fashioned, paddle-wheel 
 steamboat, crowded with day excursionists. 
 
 " They have got the right idea of the way 
 to spend Sunday, too," said Eccles. 
 
 "They need it," observed Stockdale. " I 
 have wondered how some of these sten- 
 ographers and clerks get through this 
 weather. All day in offices like the stoke- 
 hole of a battleship, and nights in suffo- 
 cating hall bedrooms." 
 [120] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 "You don't hear any complaints," re- 
 marked Eccles. 
 
 " Not one," agreed Mixter. " They want 
 to be in the game, too." 
 
 Stockdale lay back again on the grass, his 
 arm under his head, and looked at his com- 
 panions with a somewhat quizzical smile. 
 "Has the war, by any possible chance, 
 suggested to either of you that people gen- 
 erally are better than you had any idea of ; 
 a damn sight better than you are yourselves, 
 for instance?" 
 
 " Surest thing you know," admitted 
 Mixter. 
 
 "Lord, yes," assented Eccles heartily. 
 "I have to struggle frequently against 
 tagging myself * Market value thirty cents.' " 
 
 Stockdale laughed. "It certainly does 
 make you realize your own weaknesses as 
 though someone had put a fifty-candle 
 power incandescent electric light inside you. 
 My spirit, I think, is fairly willing, but good 
 Lord, the flesh is weak. It is one thing to 
 have the correct and patriotic mental atti- 
 tude; to hand over the goods is another pair 
 of shoes. I am learning that it is n't what you 
 are willing to do now that determines your 
 effectiveness, so much as what you have 
 
 [121] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 been doing for the last twenty years or so. 
 My continued and reasonably successful 
 endeavor hitherto to pick the primrose path 
 in life is pretty nearly tying my hands be- 
 hind my back now." 
 
 '^ You do feel at times as though your soul 
 was bared stark and naked, and blown 
 upon by somewhat bitter winds," observed 
 Mixter. 
 
 *^Look here," protested Eccles indig- 
 nantly, *^ I called this meeting as a pleasure 
 party, and I '11 be hanged if I listen to any 
 more loose talk about souls or psychology. 
 What you need is to have your liver shaken 
 up, Stockdale, and to get your blood cir- 
 culating. As for Jack, exercise won't help 
 him. He is just naturally a born drooler, 
 and would sit contentedly talking philos- 
 ophy to a wooden Indian all day. Honestly, 
 are n't you both glad to be in Washington 
 at this period in the world's history? " 
 
 Mixter and Stockdale nodded. "It's 
 the most interesting time of my life," con- 
 ceded the latter. " What difference does it 
 make what any single individual is doing? 
 Think of what is being done by everyone 
 together." 
 
 "Never again," observed Mixter, "will 
 [122] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 anyone catch me cursing out the inefficiency 
 of a democracy. In the first place, ineffi- 
 ciency is a small price to pay for individual 
 freedom; in the second place, this country 
 is showing that you don't have to pay it." 
 
 ^^You are right," agreed Stockdale, *^on 
 both your points. Until we thought we 
 might lose it, I don't believe any of us quite 
 realized what we owed to democracy. As 
 I understand it, democracy means the right 
 of the individual to develop through in- 
 dividual effort and initiative, instead of 
 doing so by means of orders from govern- 
 mental authorities. It represents the di- 
 rectly opposite theory of civilization from 
 that of the Germans; as different as black 
 is from white. It is a good suggestion that 
 this war is being fought to make the world 
 safe for — " 
 
 " Don't spring that one about the Demo- 
 cratic Party," warned Eccles. " My good 
 nature is about exhausted as it is." 
 
 " Germany's system is merely government 
 by suffocation," went on Stockdale. 
 
 "Down at Seventeenth and G Streets, 
 where the stormy winds do blow," observed 
 Eccles, " I am too busy putting the Ameri- 
 can Navy on its feet to spend much time in 
 
 [123] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 considering the whichness of the why; so 
 you two will have to excuse me if I am not 
 able to keep step with you in a hot-air con- 
 test; still, little Willie does have a thought 
 now and then. I am no Bolshevik, but 
 I do feel more interested in people than I 
 used to do. I have been discovering for 
 some months that there are several good men 
 in the world outside the list of my previous 
 acquaintances. There are a lot of men here 
 who have given up real things just for a 
 chance to help beat the Germans. Sacrifice 
 to them means more than resigning from a 
 club or two because their income is reduced. 
 When it comes to sacrifice, they eat it up. 
 A good many of them, I find, have got sons 
 in the army." 
 
 ^* The son of the head-waiter at the club," 
 remarked Mixter, ^^has just been awarded 
 the D.S.O. I was talking with him about it 
 the other day." 
 
 "You said something. Bill," observed 
 Stockdale. " Some of the people I have 
 met here have certainly broadened my 
 views and taught me a little about what 
 unselfishness means." 
 
 *^You will learn something in time, if 
 you live long enough. Bob," said Eccles. 
 
 [124] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 ^' Boston is the hub of the universe, of 
 course, but there are some decent folks 
 living out on the spokes and the rim." 
 
 ^^Look who's here!" observed Mixter 
 suddenly, staring down the lane which ran 
 to the highway. '^Who told you where to 
 find us?" 
 
 Philip Tresham strolled up toward the 
 little group, exchanging greetings as he did 
 so. He selected a comfortable place to sit, 
 where he could lean his back against a 
 rock, and gave a glance at the wooded banks 
 on the opposite side of the river before re- 
 plying to Mixter's question. 
 
 ^^ I had to spend the morning at the office 
 with General Gish. We are getting out 
 some new regulations. When we got 
 through I thought I would take a chance 
 and follow you." 
 
 He leaned back, a trifle wearily, and 
 stretched out his legs at their full length 
 before him. "My word, but this is nice 
 here," he said slowly. "Is this what you* 
 have been doing all day?" 
 
 Eccles raised his head a moment from the 
 turf where he was lying. " Since our al 
 fresco nooday repast, what you see is pre- 
 cisely all that we may be truthfully said to 
 
 [125] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 have been doing. I can't, with any regard 
 to my conscience, designate the conversation 
 that has been carried on here as doing 
 anything." 
 
 '^ What's the matter, Phil? Are you 
 tired out?" asked Stockdale, who had been 
 studying the somber expression of his 
 friend's face since the latter's arrivaL 
 
 '^Not a particle," answered Tresham, 
 with an obvious attempt at cheerfulness. 
 *^Go ahead with the talk; I'm a good 
 listener." 
 
 '' It is all over," said Mixter. '' We have 
 got everything properly settled. You will 
 have to dish up some new problem for us. 
 We can't think of any more." 
 
 Tresham sighed, and closed his eyes. 
 ^^ Bully here," he murmured. 
 
 '' Spit it out, Phil," demanded Stockdale. 
 "What's the trouble? You've got some- 
 thing on your mind." 
 
 " Oh, it 's nothing much ; nothing unusual, 
 that is. I admit that I get the jim-jams once 
 in a while, when news from France sort of 
 brings things home. I got a letter from my 
 youngest brother, Jim, this morning. He 
 is in a hospital ; been badly gassed, and got 
 a piece of shrapnel in his right arm. How- 
 [126] 
 
QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC 
 
 ever, he is coming on all right I guess, from 
 what he says. Does n't think there is much 
 chance he will have to lose the arm, is the 
 way he puts it. Finds it very restful in the 
 hospital, but would like to get back to 
 the front. Says it makes him feel like a 
 slacker loafing in a hospital when other men 
 are out at work." 
 
 There was complete silence for a minute 
 after Tresham had ceased speaking. 
 
 "We have been talking about our war 
 work," said Mixter finally, in low tones, and 
 with considerable emphasis on the word 
 war. "Good Lord!" 
 
 Stockdale and Eccles gazed into the 
 distance with set expressions. 
 
 "War work here in Washington!" ex- 
 claimed Eccles at last. 
 
 "And all hell loose in Europe!" added 
 Stockdale. 
 
 Tresham shook himself free from the 
 spell which had seemed to lie on him since 
 his arrival. His gaze travelled down the 
 broad river. " Never mind," he said, " take 
 things as they are. It's all quiet along the 
 Potomac." 
 
 [127] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 '^ T'OU must not say ^ masks,'" shouted 
 ^ Jim Kellen into the transmitter of 
 
 JL the long distance telephone. 
 
 " Why not? " came back a faint voice over 
 the wire. 
 
 "Because those are the orders," con- 
 tinued Kellen. " You can talk all you want 
 to about 'gas,' but if you hitch the word 
 * masks' on, — good-night, the country is 
 ruined. Put it this way: 'to save our men 
 from German poison gas.' Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 "Confound it all," exclaimed Kellen, 
 "they've cut us off again." He hung up 
 the receiver, waited possibly five seconds, 
 and then jounced it up and down on its 
 hook with a persistency born of hot- 
 weather irritation. "Hello," he shouted. 
 "You cut me off — with De Sota. Yes, 
 De Sota; Market 2921. Mr. Merrill; 
 M-E-R-R-I-L-L. At the Red Cross., 
 Well, hurry up now; it's important." 
 
 [131] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 He slammed the receiver back again on 
 the hook and turned to Major Johnson of 
 the Gas and Flame Division, Chemical 
 Warfare Service, U. S. A. "Merrill has 
 got a thousand six-sheet posters printed ask- 
 ing for materials for gas masks," he ex- 
 plained. " It's an awful break, because the 
 War Council of the Red Cross has ruled 
 against it. You see, we are a noncombatant 
 organization, and are not supposed to fur- 
 nish materials for offensive warfare; or any 
 kind of warfare, I guess. I only learned 
 this recently myself. Merrill is the local 
 conservation man out there, and he is as full 
 of pep as an Irish terrier; too full. He will 
 have the Red Cross pinched by an Inter- 
 national Police Force the first thing you 
 know, for knocking the slats out of the 
 Geneva Convention. However, he has my 
 sympathy. Hamlet's little problem about 
 ^ to be or not to be ' did n't have a thing on 
 my job. I have to consider how to do and 
 not to do." 
 
 Major Johnson, a smooth-faced man of 
 thirty-five or so, wearing spectacles and 
 with dark brown hair brushed all the way 
 across his head from a part on the extreme 
 left side, smiled tolerantly. 
 
 [132] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 "How is that?" he inquired. 
 
 " Well, of course you know that everyone 
 in Washington is winning the war in one 
 way or another. Some of the ways are darn 
 good, and others, if you ask me, are punk. 
 The special way in which I personally am 
 winning the war consists in the collection 
 of much-needed materials which, for one 
 reason or another, you can't go into a shop 
 and buy. In other words, I have to dig 
 them out here, there and everywhere. Over 
 here at the Red Cross we call it Conserva- 
 tion or Salvage or Reclamation, just as the 
 fancy takes us. It all depends on which 
 you consider the ^more tenderer word,' as 
 old Mr. Weller remarked in reference to 
 Sam's ' walentine.' But step across the street 
 to the War Industries Board and you will 
 find you have to mind your p's and q's. 
 They have got the meaning of those words 
 down finer than an unabridged dictionary. 
 If the conservation man there steps into 
 salvage territory, or the salvage man at- 
 tempts to do any conservation, it's looked 
 upon about as kindly as an assassination. 
 In fact, there's a pretty how-de-do. I get 
 my orders from the War Industries Board, 
 and I have to watch my step, I tell you. 
 
 [133] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 However, I have learned to tell salvage 
 from conservation a mile ofif, by the smell 
 I think, and things are running very 
 smoothly. I am quite puffed up about it. 
 The War Industries Board notifies us that 
 they need something they can't buy in the 
 open market; tin, for example. I send out 
 a hurry call to Red Cross Chapters all over 
 the country, and presently about twenty 
 million people are nosing out tinfoil, pewter 
 articles and collapsible tubes, like so many 
 foxhounds on a hot scent. We've got a 
 great organization of willing workers. All 
 that is necessary is to press a button in Wash- 
 ington, and the Red Cross members do the 
 rest." 
 
 ^^They do the rest, and you do the rest- 
 ing?" suggested Major Johnson. 
 
 ^^ Words to that effect," resumed Kellen, 
 "hackneyed though they are, have some- 
 times crossed my own mind. However, 
 someone has got to press the button, and 
 it's just the form of exercise that I like." 
 
 The telephone on Kellen's desk gave out 
 a prolonged and guttural buzz, and he 
 raised the receiver to his ear. 
 
 "Hello! Yes, I am ready for De Sota. 
 Go ahead. Hello! That you, Merrill? 
 
 [134] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 They cut us off. Did you hear what I said 
 last? Make all your appeals read 4o save 
 our men from German poison gas,' and 
 don't use the word ^masks' on your life." 
 
 Kellen listened for a few moments in 
 silence. Then he put his hand over the 
 transmitter, and turned to Johnson with a 
 grin on his face. 
 
 ^^ Merrill is making the wires positively 
 crinkle," he remarked. " Oh, oh, oh, such 
 language! And over the telephone, too!" 
 
 He raised the telephone to his lips. 
 ^^Now, look here, Merrill, I am obeying 
 orders, and so must you. How can they 
 save men from German poison gas without 
 using masks? Search me. But that has got 
 nothing to do with it. We have got to do 
 as we're told. If the secret leaks out 
 through others, that isn't our fault. I've 
 got a hunch that some clever person will 
 guess what we are after. However, destroy 
 those posters and get out new ones. That's 
 a good fellow. You are doing great work. 
 Be happy, now. Good-bye. I am sending 
 you a long letter." 
 
 Kellen put the telephone back on his desk 
 and swung round in his chair again towards 
 Major Johnson. 
 
 [135] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 " Of course, I know as well as you do that 
 men, women and children will talk plain 
 English, and say they are collecting stufif 
 for gas masks; but officially the Red Cross 
 is merely turning over certain materials to 
 the army which the army is going to use in 
 some way to protect our men from poison 
 gas. Do you get me? " 
 
 "Sure," answered Major Johnson, "but 
 don't let that worry you. You set up your 
 machinery for making the collections, and 
 forget about the rest of it. Don't you bother 
 with publicity. There is a little bird not 
 far from here which I rather think will 
 begin twittering before long. I have just 
 spent a couple of hours with the publicity 
 man of the Food Administration." 
 
 " Bully for you," exclaimed Kellen with 
 a relieved look. 
 
 " You will get all the publicity you want; 
 don't worry about that," repeated Major 
 Johnson. "For instance, look at this little 
 card I 've had printed. It can be dis- 
 tributed by the thousands. How does it 
 strike you?" 
 
 Kellen studied for some minutes the card 
 which Johnson handed him. It read like 
 this: 
 
 [136] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 ** To Save a Soldier^s Life 
 
 Turn over to the Red Cross 
 Peach-stones Prune-pits 
 
 Apricot-plts Walnuts 
 
 Plum-pits Butternuts 
 
 Hazel-nuts 
 and the shells of those nuts." 
 
 "It's all right," said Kellen; "that is, if 
 you believe it." 
 
 "Believe it?" repeated Major Johnson. 
 
 Kellen shook his head. He vs^as a tall, 
 thin, smooth-faced man, vs^ith red hair, and 
 a humorous cast of countenance. In private 
 life he v^as a bank president in a smaller 
 city of the Middle West, and troubles and 
 annoyances rolled off him like water off a 
 duck's back. 
 
 "Yes, believe it," he said. In spite of 
 Gen. Morev^ood's letter, I can't help feeling 
 you fellow^s are putting something over on 
 me. Peach-stones to save a soldier's life! 
 Can you beat it?" 
 
 " Modern v^arf are has many ramifica- 
 tions," opined Johnson v^isely. 
 
 "You said something," agreed Kellen, 
 "but to think you've got to fight with 
 peach-stones and prune-pits does make you 
 sit up. How do you put them into gas 
 masks anyway?" 
 
 [137] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "You burn them, and make a sort of 
 carbon; just the way you make charcoal 
 from wood," answered Johnson. "Then 
 the carbon goes into the respirator of the 
 mask, and the gas passes through the carbon, 
 and the poison is killed or purified or 
 rendered harmless. Understand?" 
 
 "Certainly; it's as clear as mud. And 
 it's all right, I suppose," said Kellen. 
 " Anyhow, I 've got the whole thing worked 
 out already. We will be shipping you car- 
 load lots before you know it. America 
 expects every peach-stone to do its duty, 
 and it's my job to see they do it." 
 
 "That's the talk!" said Major Johnson. 
 "Peach-stones will win the war, my boy! 
 By the way, though, you must tell your peo- 
 ple to extract the meat from all edible nuts 
 before they ship them." 
 
 "Why so? Can't you use the whole nut?" 
 
 "Perfectly well; but I had to promise 
 the Food Administration that we would do 
 that, so no food values would be wasted." 
 
 "Now, look here, Johnson," exclaimed 
 Kellen, " I have to collect platinum by 
 saying the government both wants it and 
 doesn't want it; I have to go on tiptoe so 
 the War Industries Board won't throw 
 [138] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 fits all over the place, and I have to do 
 a lot of other things I don't like ; but I '11 
 be darned if I ask Red Cross members 
 to sit on their haunches picking out 
 food values from nuts w^ith a pin. I draw 
 the line somewhere, and this is the place. 
 You tell Mr. Herbert Hoover that he is 
 going to have a meatless day on these nuts, 
 or else forget it." 
 
 ^^ I think the latter is the simpler course," 
 said Johnson. '' Come on, I '11 take you out 
 to lunch." 
 
 The two walked down the marble steps 
 of Red Cross National Headquarters, and 
 started up 17th Street. In the park op- 
 posite, the band of the Engineer Regiment 
 stationed at Camp Meigs was playing ^^ Over 
 There." Hundreds of clerks were sitting 
 on the grass listening to the music; officers 
 were pouring out from the side doors of 
 the State, War and Navy Building in a 
 hurry for lunch. Seventeenth Street was 
 crowded. 
 
 ^' Who is that?" asked Major Johnson as 
 Kellen nodded to a tall, light-haired man 
 dressed in grey flannels and wearing a 
 rather wide-brimmed straw hat. 
 
 "It's Bob Stockdale," answered Kellen. 
 
 [139] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 ''He's a civilian in the Quartermaster's 
 Department, Camp Service Division." 
 
 '' Good-looking," said Johnson. 
 
 '' Good fellow," answered Kellen. " Popu- 
 lar. Everybody likes him. Perhaps there is 
 just a little too much Bawston about him. I 
 think he looks on a wooly westerner like me 
 as a new sort of species. However, he 's all 
 right; everybody says he is one of the best." 
 
 "Camp Service Division, you said? By 
 Jove, I must get the army and navy started 
 on this campaign of ours. I ought to have 
 done it before now." 
 
 ''Before now, is right Do you mean to 
 tell me you 've been letting our soldiers and 
 sailors go on swallowing their peach-stones 
 all this time?" 
 
 "It shall be stopped at once; this after- 
 noon," answered Major Johnson. "Let's 
 go in here. It is as good a place to eat as 
 any, and we can sit outdoors." 
 
 The two walked up the little flight of 
 stone steps leading into a house directly 
 opposite the State, War and Navy Building 
 on Seventeenth Street, and passed through 
 the house out into the small garden. There 
 were a score or more of large and small 
 tables ranged about, nearly all occupied, 
 [140] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 and it was with some difficulty that Kellen 
 and the Major found seats by themselves at 
 a table at the end of the garden furthest 
 away from the street. There were a few 
 women present, but most of the tables were 
 occupied by officers : Signal Corps, Quarter- 
 master's Department, General Staff, Adju- 
 tant Generals' Department; all were rep- 
 resented in the groups of cheerful citizen 
 soldiers who chattered and laughed in the 
 warm September sunshine. At a long table 
 near them, Kellen and Johnson could hear 
 eight Majors from the office of the Judge 
 Advocate General discussing legal tech- 
 nicalities and courts martial with all the 
 wrapt animation which laymen reserve for 
 poetry, art or affairs of the heart. 
 
 ^' I say," observed Kellen suddenly, rous- 
 ing himself from what Mr. Weller senior 
 was wont to call a '' referee," into which he 
 had fallen while Major Johnson was de- 
 livering the luncheon order to the extremely 
 good-looking waitress who attended them, 
 '' I must get the women wound up on this 
 campaign. It needs peaches to collect 
 peach-stones properly." 
 
 " Or to do 'most anything else," amended 
 Major Johnson. 
 
 [141] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "You never said a truer word," agreed 
 Kellen. "As far as the Red Cross is con- 
 cerned, the women are the whole thing. It 
 is their devotion that makes the Red Cross. 
 It's their organization, really. Red Cross 
 men, like myself, are nothing but go-be- 
 tweens; useful, perhaps, — like knitting- 
 needles, — but not objects deserving great 
 veneration. However, that's neither here 
 nor there. I must select some principal 
 peach to enthuse her sister-peaches through- 
 out the country in this campaign." Kellen 
 poured himself a large cup of breakfast 
 coffee. "You don't object to my breezy, 
 western way of discussing the matter, do 
 you?" he asked with feigned anxiety. 
 
 " I was born in Indiana, in George Ade's 
 home town," answered Major Johnson. 
 
 " By Jove, if I could get her!" exclaimed 
 Kellen as he stared at a table at the further 
 end of the garden. 
 
 Major Johnson followed his glance, and 
 discerned, sitting facing them and between 
 two young girls clad in the uniform of the 
 Red Cross Motor Corps, a strikingly beau- 
 tiful young woman with hair which at this 
 distance appeared to be of the color of 
 daffodils, blue eyes, and a face which gave 
 [142] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 every appearance of high breeding, but 
 which wore at the moment a rather dis- 
 contented expression. 
 
 '^ I '11 ask her now," said Kellen, jumping 
 up. ^^ Be back in a moment." 
 
 Major Johnson kept his eyes glued on 
 the group at the distant table, in order to 
 observe the progress of the negotiation. He 
 saw Kellen shake hands, and observed with 
 what energy he urged his request upon the 
 beautiful young woman with the wonderful 
 hair. She appeared to be taking a polite 
 interest in the discourse, and after a few 
 moments smiled, and at length laughed 
 heartily. Then she began to talk, appar- 
 ently with great rapidity, and finally rose 
 from the table and started to go into the 
 house, first shaking hands again with Kellen. 
 As she did so she shook her head, although 
 smiling pleasantly at the moment. 
 
 ^^No use," observed Kellen, as he plumped 
 down in his chair opposite Johnson. " The 
 beautiful Miss Lovering was in a petulant 
 mood, and all my eloquence could n't move 
 her. She is supposed to be resting here, 
 after six months canteen service in the war 
 zone. As a matter of fact, she has been 
 doing more Red Cross work over here than 
 
 [143] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 any other woman in Washington. I never 
 knew her to turn down a call for help 
 before." 
 
 '^ I thought she looked a little cross," 
 suggested Major Johnson. 
 
 ^^ I don't know that I blame her, really," 
 answered Kellen. '' She says she applied 
 j^esterday to go back to the canteen service 
 in France. Request refused because there 
 is a new rule that women with near relatives 
 there are n't to be allowed in the war zone ; 
 and she 's got two brothers who are officers 
 in the 77th Division. So they won't give 
 her a passport. She's as much pleased 
 about it as General Wood likes being kept 
 in Kansas. Peach-stones just now look very 
 small to her." 
 
 ^^A pretty, petulant prima donna, — 
 what?" observed Major Johnson. 
 
 ^' Perhaps so," assented Kellen, ^* but at 
 any rate, a perfect peach, and a record- 
 beating worker; and that's what is needed 
 in this business. I didn't tell her so, but I 
 am going to wait and ask her again." 
 
 ^^Well," said Johnson, rising from the 
 table, ^Met's be moving. I am going down 
 to the office of the Camp Service Division 
 O. Q. M. G. and put in an hour or two there ; 
 
 [144] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 with your friend Stockdale, I suppose. 
 Next week I want you to come on to New 
 York and help boom things there. Now 
 we have started, we want to get this thing 
 going like a prairie fire. So long, for the 
 present." 
 
 II 
 
 Bob Stockdale walked up Fifth Avenue 
 in the bright, early autumn sunshine, with 
 buoyant step and a general feeling of ela- 
 tion. He had been ordered to New York 
 for three days in connection with an investi- 
 gation of the Camp Service Depot there. A 
 little change after the hot summer in Wash- 
 ington was very welcome, and a job which 
 was only remotely connected with law never 
 failed to give him a sense of exhilaration. 
 He drew a deep breath of satisfaction as 
 his gaze travelled along the most wonderful 
 city street in the world. New York as- 
 suredly looked good to Stockdale; but in 
 good times and in bad, in sickness and in 
 health, richer or poorer, it had never failed 
 to do that. There used to be an old saying, 
 which became sadly overworked, that good 
 Americans when they die go to Paris. As 
 
 [145] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 the accuracy of this statement was never 
 proven, it must be taken as an expression of 
 hope deferred rather than as an official com- 
 munique. Nobody, however, has ever been 
 heard to question the adage that good Bos- 
 tonians when they wish to enjoy life go to 
 New York. The descendants of the Puritans 
 seem to lose something of the sharp edge 
 of Calvinistic conscience which protrudes 
 from all of them, and to present a smooth 
 and rounded surface to the world after 
 temporary immersion in the swift eddying 
 currents of the metropolitan whirlpool. 
 In New York Stockdale became a light- 
 hearted buccaneer in feelings and aspira- 
 tions. Fifth Avenue, he thought, had never 
 looked so wonderful as now in war times. 
 Other cities displayed flags, but on Fifth 
 Avenue flags seemed to blossom forth from 
 the buildings on both sides of the street 
 like flowers in the garden, — French, British, 
 Italian, and ^^ flags with their crimson bars." 
 Never was seen such a profusion of color 
 as greeted Stockdale's eyes when, nearing 
 Fortieth Street, he paused and looked up 
 and down the crowded avenue. 
 , "Are you star gazing, Mr. Stockdale?" 
 he heard a clear voice saying, and turning 
 
 [146] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 he beheld Miss Katherine Lovering look- 
 ing very trig and smart in her dark 
 blue tailor-made walking dress and small 
 black velvet hat beneath w^hich appeared a 
 profusion of wonderful dafifodil-colored 
 hair. 
 
 '' It only needed this!" exclaimed Stock- 
 dale, shaking the small gloved hand ex- 
 tended to him. ^^By Jove, what luck to 
 meet you here. Don't say that you are busy, 
 or have an engagement, or something of 
 that sort, but walk as far as the Park this 
 glorious afternoon." 
 
 Miss Lovering paused a moment to con- 
 sider before she replied, "Very well. It 
 doesn't do to be busy always, does it?" 
 
 "I should say not," replied Stockdale 
 fervently. " They are getting some figures 
 ready for me down at the Camp Service 
 Depot, and I am off duty until evening. 
 Life looks as cheerful as a rainbow iust at 
 present." 
 
 "New York is fun," conceded Miss 
 Lovering. 
 
 " But you live here," said Stockdale, as 
 though that made all the difference. 
 
 " I have n't really lived here for more 
 than a year. I am only here for three days 
 
 [147] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 for shopping now. But I know what you 
 mean. To appreciate New York at its full 
 value, one must have been living in a 
 desert." 
 
 "Are you. referring to Boston, by any 
 chance?" queried Stockdale, with a slightly 
 aggrieved manner. 
 
 " How can you think me so sacrilegious ! " 
 laughed Miss Lovering. " I am afraid F 
 Street, the scene of shopping expeditions 
 in Washington, was in my mind at the 
 moment." 
 
 " Hullo! " exclaimed Stockdale suddenly, 
 "what is doing in front of the library? 
 Wild West Show?" 
 
 Miss Lovering followed his gaze with 
 interest. "Let's cross over and see," she 
 suggested. 
 
 Apparently there was very much doing 
 in front of the library, at both ends and in 
 the middle. At the Fortieth Street corner 
 the two found themselves part of a group of 
 two score or more individuals who were 
 listening attentively to the fervent harangue 
 of a newsboy perched upon the balustrade 
 of the library near the sidewalk, which he 
 was using as a rostrum. The youthful 
 orator appeared to be about twelve years 
 
 [148] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 old, his toes were visibly bursting through 
 his worn-out shoes, his knickerbockers con- 
 sisted mostly of patches, his wrists pro- 
 truded a long way beyond the sleeves of 
 the too-tight jacket, but he tossed his head, 
 and waved his arms with all the fire of 
 Demosthenes. 
 
 ^'I tell yuh," he shouted, ''we're fightin' 
 to down otockrasy, and we all got to get in 
 it, me and youse and everybuddy. This 
 is a free country we live in, ain't it? Don't 
 youse want to keep it so! Do youse want 
 a bunch of measly Germans coming 
 round here and giving orders? No, Sir. 
 No otockrasy for me! I got two brothers 
 over there; one in the Marines, and one of 
 'em with the 77th Division. That's our 
 own Division, New York, from Camp Up- 
 ton. I bet my brothers give them Germans 
 sumptin' to think about. You prob'ly got 
 brothers or sumptin' over there too. But 
 we ain't there, me and youse. So wot have 
 we gotta do to git into this fight against 
 otockrasy? We gotta back 'em up, ain't 
 we? If we ain't fightin' we gotta do 
 sumptin'; ain't that right? Me and youse 
 knows that. Think of those fellers gettin' 
 all blowed to bits over there. Gee! I don't 
 
 [ 149 ] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 like to think about it, but I 'd like to kill a 
 few of them Germans. But I 'm trying to 
 do sumptin ' ; an' you can do sumptin'. Buy 
 War Savings Stamps! I gottem fer sale 
 right here. Cum up now and put up. If 
 you want to knock otockrasy buy a War 
 Savings Stamp!" 
 
 "I'll take one," said Stockdale, advanc- 
 ing to the balustrade. 
 
 " That 's good ! " said the orator. '' Much 
 obliged, Sir! Here's your change. Keep 
 it fer meself? No, thank you; I couldn't 
 do that, Sir. Giv it to de Red Cross. Now 
 come on. Somebuddy else want to giv 
 otockrasy a knock? Step lively." 
 
 " Something doing in New York every 
 minute," said Stockdale, as he rejoined 
 Miss Lovering and the two moved slowly 
 along the crowded sidewalk. 
 
 " Look at the elephants ! " exclaimed Miss 
 Lovering, staring ahead. " Elephants half- 
 way up the library steps! I wonder if they 
 are in the fight against ^otockrasy' too?" 
 
 " By Jove," said Stockdale, following her 
 glance. "This appears to be the peach- 
 stone campaign. We want to see this." 
 
 There was a great crowd in front of the 
 library, filling the sidewalk to the curb, 
 
 [150] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 and all the steps. On the broad landing 
 before the last flight were half a dozen 
 elephants lent for the occasion by the New 
 York Hippodrome under the charge of two 
 keepers. Each elephant was gloriously- 
 caparisoned with a crimson cloth covering 
 most of its huge body, and bearing the words 
 in white letters ^^ Save your Peach-stones." 
 
 At the top of the last flight of steps stood 
 Jim Kellen, the loose ends of his necktie 
 flowing negligently in the breeze, his hat 
 off, and his hair ruffled. He also was ad- 
 dressing the multitude. 
 
 Ranged across the landing, where the 
 elephants were standing, were a great num- 
 ber of cast-iron barrels, each one bearing 
 the legend ^* Throw your peach-stones here 
 and save a soldier's life " ; and every barrel 
 was full. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," Kellen was say- 
 ing, " among the horrible methods of war- 
 fare utilized by the baby-killers of Ger- 
 many, there is none worse than poison gas 
 of one sort or another. It is by this means 
 that many of our men have been made to 
 suffer a frightful death. There is more 
 danger in a gas attack than in a hail of 
 shrapnel, or even of high explosive shells. 
 
 [151] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 I am told that there is no worse agony than 
 being gassed. But we are going to beat the 
 villains at their own game. We shall be 
 able shortly to give them gas compared to 
 which their own will be like a waft of 
 mountain air. Meanwhile we must pro- 
 tect our men from German poison gas, and 
 to do that we must have peach-stones, fruit- 
 pits and nut-shells. They make the carbon 
 that saves men's lives. Here 's a work that 
 everybody can do." 
 
 ^^Look at that rogue elephant!" ex- 
 claimed Stockdale, suddenly pointing to 
 one of the thick-skinned quadrupeds which 
 wore, in addition to his crimson back cover- 
 ing, white pantelettes and a monster white 
 foolscap. "Just keep your eye on him. 
 He is eating up those peach-stones by the 
 barrel! Do you mind waiting for me a 
 moment?" 
 
 He wedged his way through the crowd 
 until he reached the open space, and called 
 loudly, "Mr. Kellen!" 
 
 Jim Kellen stopped orating, and search- 
 ing his audience discerned Stockdale. 
 
 *^Ah, Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" he 
 remarked. 
 
 " I have discovered something anyway," 
 [152] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 called back Stockdale. ^' Do you know that 
 there is a frightful loss of peach-stones tak- 
 ing place in this vicinity?" 
 
 ''How so, Mr. Stockdale?" queried 
 Kellen. 
 
 ''Cast your eye on that pachyderm in 
 pantelettes!" shouted Stockdale. 
 
 The attention of the crowd was at once 
 diverted, and roars of laughter succeeded 
 the attentive silence which had prevailed. 
 The clown elephant was swinging his trunk 
 with methodical precision in and out of the 
 nearest barrel, the while his eyes wore an 
 expression of calm contentment. 
 
 "Great Scott!" roared Kellen. "Here, 
 you keeper, back that rascal up a bit. Ladies 
 and gentlemen, the elephants will now go 
 round, and the band begin to play. After 
 that we will listen to a few remarks from 
 Mr. Robert Stockdale of the Quarter- 
 master's Department." 
 
 The keepers from the Hippodrome pro- 
 ceeded to put their charges through a variety 
 of pleasing manoeuvres, terminated by the 
 formation of a mighty pyramid in which 
 all the elephants stood gracefully on their 
 hind legs, while the band from the Hippo- 
 drome, seated in a sight-seeing auto-bus, 
 
 [153] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 rendered with praiseworthy zest, ^^ Where 
 do we go from here?" 
 
 "Now, Stockdale," shouted Keilen, as the 
 performance ceased. Stockdale picked his 
 course through the elephants with consid- 
 erable circumspection, and mounted to the 
 top step by Kellen's side. 
 
 "Mr. Keilen and ladies and gentlemen," 
 he began. "There is a good deal of 
 speaking going on in this vicinity, and I 
 shall add to the turmoil only for a few 
 minutes. I do not feel myself competent 
 to compete either with the youthful Daniel 
 Webster on my right, or with the lady in 
 the Motor Corps uniform whom I can hear, 
 even at this distance, extolling the virtues 
 of Liberty Bonds at the 42nd Street corner. 
 Let me say at the outset that I have known 
 something of this campaign, and I desire to 
 compliment Mr. Keilen of the Red Cross 
 on the way in which he has handled it. He 
 has got everybody to working, and has kept 
 them all in good humor. In fact, ladies and 
 gentlemen, — and I trust Mr. Keilen will ex- 
 cuse the warmth of my remarks, which come 
 from a full heart, — his conduct reminds 
 me of a recently elected Mayor in my own 
 state who declared in his inaugural address 
 
 [154] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 that he should forget every consideration 
 but duty, and go forward in the public 
 interests swerving neither to partiality on 
 the one hand, nor to impartiality on the 
 other, and that it was the ambition of his 
 life to be like Caesar's wife, — all things to 
 all men ! I want to tell you a story which 
 I heard the other day, and which seems to 
 me the pleasantest of any that I have 
 heard about the war. I can't vouch for its 
 truth because I only heard it casually; but 
 it is so cheery that I hope it is true. There 
 is n't one of us here who has n't thrilled with 
 pride at the achievement of the lost battalion 
 in the Argonne Forest. You remember the 
 men were entirely cut off for ten days with 
 no food but their iron rations, and no way 
 in which help or reinforcements could be 
 brought to them. In fact, they were com- 
 pletely surrounded by the Germans. But 
 they held out, and when on the tenth day 
 the enemy demanded their surrender, the 
 commander of this little band of heroes, 
 Major Charles Whittlesey, replied in lan- 
 guage of unmistakable clearness, ^ Go to 
 Hell!' The lost battalion, as you know, 
 was finally rescued. Thank God for it. I 
 am told that when Major Whittlesey's 
 
 [155] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 parents heard of their son's glorious conduct 
 their hearts swelled with pride and joy, but 
 that all they said was this : 
 
 '' ' Well,' remarked Mr. Whittlesey to his 
 wife, ^Charlie is a hero and I am prouder 
 of him than I can say. But I don't know 
 that his language will do us much good in 
 church circles.' " 
 
 ^^^Oh, well,' answered the mother, ^we 
 must make allowances. You know Charlie 
 always did get irritable when he didn't 
 have his meals on time.' " 
 
 ^^ In spite of the fact that we hear these 
 tales of valor almost every day, it is difficult, 
 ladies and gentlemen, on this beautiful 
 afternoon, and in this place, to realize the 
 horror and cruelty and bloodshed that is 
 going on three thousand miles away. But, 
 though we cannot realize the actual events 
 with a seeing eye, our thoughts, our emo- 
 tions, every instinct of our beings, are with 
 our men overseas. Mr. Kellen has told you 
 something about a gas attack. Let me say 
 a word as to what this so-called peach- 
 stone campaign really means. I had the 
 facts from an officer of the Gas and Flame 
 Division of the army, familiar with the 
 subject. At a certain place in France part 
 
 [156] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 of a sector was being held by a regiment of 
 our own men and a regiment of French 
 soldiers. The gas masks of the Americans 
 were supplied with carbon made from the 
 materials which you are asked to collect. 
 The gas masks of the French troops were 
 supplied with carbon made from certain 
 wood fibres, because cocoanut shells, the 
 best material, were not obtainable, and this 
 peach-stone campaign had not progressed 
 so far that we could furnish any carbon to 
 our Allies. The Germans, who were about 
 to advance, began with one of their fiendish 
 gas attacks. There was plenty of warning, 
 and both the French and our men had time 
 to put their masks on. What was the re- 
 sult? It was a new form of gas, something 
 a little more horrible than anything which 
 had been used before. The gas masks of 
 the French were found to be of almost no 
 protection, and troops as gallant as any in 
 the world were forced to retreat. The car- 
 bon made from peach-stones and these other 
 materials, on the other hand, worked with 
 almost complete efficiency. Our men were 
 able to stand their ground, and when the 
 Hun hordes came over the top they found 
 not a deserted field, as they expected, but 
 
 [157] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 some thousands of American doughboys 
 who met them with such a hail of machine- 
 gun fire that the Germans who were not 
 killed, turned tail after a brief interval and 
 ran back in terror to their holes for safety. 
 
 "And so, ladies and gentlemen, when you 
 add to these materials imperatively required 
 by the Gas and Flame Division of the army, 
 you are not only helping to save the lives of 
 our men overseas, but you are actively tak- 
 ing part in winning the war. It is the whole 
 mighty volume of endeavor which counts, 
 and anyone who disdains to help because 
 the form of service is small or, in his opin- 
 ion, not commensurate with his abilities or 
 ambitions, is one who has failed to play his 
 part in the great adventure. Our gallant 
 soldiers are keeping faith in the face of 
 death and desolation; we must not fail in 
 little things. I ask you to give three cheers 
 for the Red Cross, which has undertaken 
 the task of handling this vital campaign for 
 the army." 
 
 As Stockdale and Miss Lovering walked 
 away from the library, the latter remarked 
 in quiet tones, " I had not expected to hear 
 an oration from you, Mr. Stockdale. War 
 is dreadful, but still not without its delight- 
 [158] 
 
MUNITIONS OF WAR 
 
 ful surprises. Is that the way you act in 
 Boston?" 
 
 Stockdale paused a moment in thought 
 before replying. 
 
 ^^ I don't know that it is exactly," he 
 answered. 
 
 " Do you mind going round by the Grand 
 Central Station and stopping there a mo- 
 ment while I send a telegram?" asked Miss 
 Lovering. '' Mr. Kellen will be back in 
 Washington tomorrow, won't he?" 
 
 ^^ Tonight, he said," answered Stockdale. 
 
 Stockdale stood a little apart, gazing up 
 into the blue ceiling studded with silver 
 stars over the great waiting-room of the 
 station. At the moment it seemed to him 
 that there could be few more beautiful 
 buildings in the world than this, and that it 
 somehow expressed the joyousness of New 
 York. Miss Lovering wrote out her tele- 
 gram. It read: 
 
 ** James Kellen, 
 
 American Red Cross, 
 Washington, D. C. 
 If there is still a chance for me to help in 
 peach-stone campaign please count on me. Any 
 sort of work will do but I want to help awfully. 
 Katherine Lovering." 
 
 [159] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 "I have jfinished," said Miss Lovering, 
 turning to Stockdale. '' What a lot we have 
 accomplished, and there is still time for our 
 walk, isn't there?" 
 
 They strolled out of the station, down 
 44th Street, turned up Fifth Avenue and, 
 facing the setting sun, walked slowly 
 towards the Park, quiet, thoughtful and 
 happy. 
 
 [160] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 I 
 
 MAJOR MiXTER of the Signal Corps 
 was frequently alluded to in con- 
 nection with the phrase '' the salt 
 of the earth," which was a pity, as it robbed 
 the language of the precise words needed 
 to describe his wife. Mrs. Mixter had been 
 a famous beauty in her youth, and now in 
 middle age was a strikingly handsome 
 matron. Candor compels the admission 
 that she manifested a decided tendency to 
 what may politely be called amplitude in 
 her still fine figure; but her complexion was 
 that of a child, her large hazel eyes were 
 like those attributed by Virgil to Juno, 
 there were few silver threads among the 
 gold of her hair, and she might still have 
 sat for the picture of a Gainsborough 
 Duchess. When she was a young girl she 
 had been laughingly called by her com- 
 panions "the aristocrat," and if the word 
 is taken in its true meaning, Mrs. Mixter 
 
 [163] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 was still a simon-pure aristocrat, and would 
 never be anything else. There was such 
 perfect poise in her bearing and such gra- 
 cious dignity in her manners that it was a 
 rest merely to be in her presence. She did 
 not know what it was to fuss or fret, and 
 had never been " rattled " in her life. 
 
 It must be confessed that circumstances 
 had contributed to make such a happy state 
 of affairs possible. Born rich and to a posi- 
 tion that made care as to worldly matters 
 not only unnecessary but a patent absurdity, 
 Mary Livingstone as a girl had not allowed 
 her mind to concern itself with mean or 
 petty interests. Without effort she came, 
 she saw, she conquered. She was not in- 
 tellectually brilliant and disdained mere 
 cleverness, but her sane good sense was 
 abounding and her outlook on life was as 
 broad as it was charitable. Whether it was 
 a question of selecting the guests for a dinner 
 party or advising her husband as to one of 
 the momentous problems which were con- 
 stantly arising as to his career, she was as 
 certain to do the right thing as the four 
 seasons of the year were to roll round in 
 their course. Indeed, to her husband Mary 
 Mixter was at once a beacon light and a 
 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 sheet anchor. Without her steadying in- 
 fluence there is no knowing to what erratic 
 courses his lively imagination and im- 
 petuous fancies might have led him. 
 
 There was nothing arbitrary or impera- 
 tive about this influence. Major Mixter 
 never felt the slightest sense of restraint. 
 The anchor rope was long enough to allow 
 him not only to ride with the tide, but to 
 swing freely about to different points of the 
 compass as winds of chance or whim varied. 
 But he never got adrift. Mrs. Mixter did 
 not, perhaps could not, share actively in all 
 her husband's kaleidoscopic interests, but 
 the realization that she was always there be- 
 hind him, true and constant as the polar star, 
 gave him a sense of security and confidence 
 which was the greatest factor in his happi- 
 ness. Jack Mixter and his wife understood 
 each other perfectly, and this was as much 
 responsible for their happiness as the fact 
 that neither had ceased to adore the other 
 as the ideal of all that was best and most 
 lovable in life. 
 
 "Jack," said Mrs. Mixter at breakfast 
 one morning in about the middle of the 
 month of September, 1918, "I have been 
 thinking about that little Jew you called 
 
 [165] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 over to our table when we were lunching 
 at the Shoreham yesterday and introduced 
 to me. He talked very nicely; somehow I 
 can't seem to get him out of my mind. He 
 appeared to me to be a sick man." Mrs. 
 Mixter's habitual manner of speaking 
 was leisurely and deliberate; in fact might 
 be described as a pleasantly modulated 
 drawl. 
 
 *^That is what Bob Stockdale has been 
 saying for the last three weeks," answered 
 her husband. *^ Rosenthal is in his office, 
 and Stockdale is quite worried about him. 
 I am sorry, because Rosenthal is a good 
 fellow." 
 
 ^^Hear, hear!" chorused Lieut. William 
 Eccles, U. S. N., who had been Major 
 Mixter's house guest since late spring, and 
 was for the time being quite a member of 
 the family. "I had a long session with 
 Rosenthal the other day about some old 
 junk at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. He 
 knows his business and is sincere and single- 
 minded. He has got his eye right on his 
 job. He taught a lot to little Willie, but 
 then I 'm a good pupil." 
 
 Major Mixter smiled sardonically. 
 ^^Yes, you are," he remarked, obviously 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 Speaking by contraries. ^^ How about that 
 time you passed on the orders for camou- 
 flaging the transport Mudjekeewis, and 
 got the blue where the pink ought to be? 
 Lord knows what would have happened if 
 they had n't discovered the mistake in time. 
 Another score for the little U-boats, I guess, 
 due to our old shore-going sea-dog. Did 
 I tell you about that, Molly? Poor old 
 Bill here — " 
 
 "Really," said Mrs. Mixter, "I think I 
 know all I need about poor old Bill and poor 
 young Jack. He is only ten years older than 
 you, Billy, but of course still a mere child. 
 What I am interested in now is poor Mr. 
 Rosenthal. Tell me about him." 
 
 "Let the jolly tar try his hand," said 
 Major Mixter as he poured himself a sec- 
 ond cup of coffee. " He has spun many a 
 stirring yarn by the galley fire at the corner 
 of 17th and G Streets. It is about all he 
 does do, too." 
 
 " If rude Boreas will cease from railing 
 a moment," remarked Eccles, " I '11 tell you 
 all about Rosenthal in two two's, Molly. 
 He is a junk dealer; home town, Cleveland, 
 Ohio; position in Washington, Principal 
 Assistant, Junk Section, Camp Service Divi- 
 
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AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 sion, Office of Quartermaster General; age, 
 forty-nine years, — I asked him ; color, out- 
 side approximately white, or Caucasian, 
 inside unqualifiedly white; hours of labor, 
 8.30 A. M. to 9.30 P. M., except on Saturdays, 
 when he knocks off at six and goes back to 
 his hotel room to have an outing, — writing 
 to his family; favorite avocation or amuse- 
 ment, not known ; favorite colors, red, white 
 and blue; height, five feet five inches; 
 weight, less than it was. How is that, Jack? 
 Pretty accurate?" 
 
 ^^Not bad," assented Mixter genially. 
 ^^ A very good sort of rude, rough outline; 
 quite all that could be expected from an 
 uneducated man. I need only add that he 
 has a wife and one child, a son, who was a 
 senior at Harvard at the time when we got 
 into the war, and who is in France with 
 the 26th Division; the so-called Yankee 
 Division, consisting of National Guard 
 troops. He hasn't brought Mrs. Rosenthal 
 on to Washington because he wants to keep 
 his own house open ^ in case,' as he puts it, 
 ^ anything should happen.' Besides, Mrs. 
 Rosenthal is one of the head Red Crossers 
 in Cleveland, and he thinks her duty lies 
 there. Rosenthal is a tremendous worker, 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 clear-headed and able, but, like so many 
 Jews, sensitive and with a good deal of 
 temperament." 
 
 Mrs. Mixter nodded her head. ^^ How 
 did you find all that out, Jack?" she asked. 
 
 ^^ I was in the same office for a while," 
 answered her husband, ^^and saw a good 
 deal of him." 
 
 '^ You were with the Camp Service Divi- 
 sion last Spring, weren't you?" said Mrs. 
 Mixter. '' I had almost forgotten." 
 
 ^^No wonder," observed Eccles. *^That 
 was his last job but six. However, he made 
 quite a stay there. They didn't find him 
 out for nearly three months." 
 
 '' General Gish asked me to come back 
 there again only yesterday," said Mixter, 
 grinning. 
 
 ^'My husband is a very popular person," 
 observed Mrs. Mixter, " and of course 
 everyone wants him. You ought to know 
 that, Billy." . 
 
 ^^ Love is blind," returned Lieut. Eccles, 
 as he transferred a poached egg to his plate. 
 
 ^^What you both say," pursued Mrs. 
 Mixter somewhat meditatively, ^' really 
 quite convinces me. Yes, I am sure I am 
 right." 
 
 [169] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 " You would n't be likely to be anything 
 else," observed Eccles seriously. 
 
 ^^True for you, Billy!" said Mixter. 
 ^^Tell us what you have been thinking, 
 Molly." 
 
 '' That the little man I met yesterday is 
 overworked almost to the verge of a break- 
 down ; and, worse than that, is deadly home- 
 sick, and lonely to a degree that neither of 
 you could understand. It has worn him 
 down to the raw edge of his whole being. 
 In fact, he is going to have a complete col- 
 lapse very soon, physical and mental, if he 
 isn't taken in hand." 
 
 Mixter and Eccles looked suddenly 
 serious. It never occurred to either of them 
 to question Mrs. Mixter's estimate of the 
 situation. 
 
 *^ I did n't know it was as bad as that," 
 said the former in rather startled tones. 
 
 ^^Has he any special friends here?" in- 
 quired Mrs. Mixter. 
 
 Her husband knitted his brows in 
 thought. It was a problem he had not 
 hitherto considered, and already he began 
 to feel pangs of a conscience which, al- 
 though somewhat of the happy-go-lucky 
 variety, needed only a trifling stimulus to 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 become almost morbidly acute where the 
 welfare of others was concerned. One 
 word his wife had uttered had pierced his 
 tender heart as though a knife had been 
 driven through it, — "lonely." To Jack 
 Mixter, with friends as numerous as trees 
 in a forest, and whose gregarious nature 
 demanded companionship for every one of 
 his waking hours, the idea that anyone 
 should be going about the world " lonely " 
 represented the acme of desolation. He 
 had always understood, of course, that there 
 were certain strange individuals who, for 
 some inexplicable reason, did not care for 
 people. It was natural for him to place in 
 this class anyone who appeared in greater 
 or less degree to lead a solitary life. It was 
 not to be supposed that in a world brimming 
 over with agreeable people anyone should 
 lack pleasant companionship if he desired 
 it. But here was a man whom the casual 
 chance of war times had thrown in his path, 
 and therefore someone to be considered and 
 if possible made comfortable and happy, in 
 a most lamentable condition. Rosenthal, it 
 appeared, was lonely — so lonely that it was 
 wearing him down to the raw. This was 
 a nice how-de-do. And all he, Mixter, had 
 
 [171] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 done about it was to chat pleasantly when he 
 happened to meet Rosenthal. He was 
 genuinely disturbed when he answered his 
 wife's question. 
 
 ^^No," he said, ^^he hasn't any special 
 friends, so far as I know. Stockdale is quite 
 chummy with him." 
 
 ^^ Chummy?" queried Mrs. Mixter. 
 
 ^^ Talks with him a lot when things are 
 slow at the office; is really interested in 
 him, you know, and all that," replied her 
 husband. 
 
 *^Goes out to lunch with him perhaps?" 
 suggested Mrs. Mixter. 
 
 ^^Very likely," answered Mixter. ^^I 
 don't really know." 
 
 ^^' Do you?" 
 
 "Do I what?" 
 
 "Go out to lunch with him?" 
 
 "I never happened to," said Major Mix- 
 ter. " I wish I had." He was by this time 
 looking quite miserable. 
 
 Mrs. Mixter smiled at her husband across 
 the table. 
 
 " Now, Jack," she counselled him, " don't 
 let that runaway conscience of yours start 
 galloping. You haven't done anything 
 wrong. I wanted to find out what the facts 
 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 were before I made any suggestions. How 
 would it do to ask Mr. Rosenthal to send 
 for his wife and for both of them to make 
 us a two weeks visit here? He won't go 
 away evidently, and yet he must be taken 
 out of himself somehow if he is going to 
 get well at all." 
 
 The clouds fled from Major Mixter's 
 face. That terrible word ^4onely" was 
 going to receive the knock-out blow it de- 
 served. Hardly had he begun to experience 
 a sense of relief on this score, however, when 
 what remained of his pre-war, conventional 
 attitude towards life stirred a trifle uneasily 
 and propounded the suggestion that to have 
 the Rosenthals as house guests was a some- 
 what radical experiment. His answer to his 
 wife's proposal reflected a decidedly mixed 
 state of mind. 
 
 ''By Jove, that's a bully idea, Molly," 
 he exclaimed. ^^You are a wonder. But 
 do you really want to do it? Rosenthal is 
 a good fellow, as I 've said ; but — Besides, 
 you can't tell what his wife would be like. 
 It's risking a nuisance to have them here, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 Mrs. Mixter had already decided pre- 
 cisely what should be done if the proposed 
 
 [173] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 visit turned out to create an impossible 
 situation when it actually took place. It 
 was not her habit, however, to lay bare all 
 her mental processes, even to her husband. 
 Perhaps this self-restraint was in part the 
 secret of her influence. 
 
 *^Why do you think I left the children 
 and came back to Washington a full month 
 earlier than we had planned? " she asked. 
 
 '^ I rather supposed it was to see me." 
 replied her husband in quite confident 
 tones. 
 
 *^ To take care of you," corrected his wife, 
 '^and of your friends, so far as they need 
 taking care of." 
 
 ^*That means me, for one," interjected 
 Lieut. Eccles. '^ I am about fed-up with 
 Jack and other masculine society." 
 
 '' Men who have put their shoulder to the 
 wheel to help out are your friends. Jack," 
 went on Mrs. Mixter. " I know you too 
 well to doubt that. There are only two 
 kinds of people for me in the world today: 
 those whose hearts are in the task of beating 
 the silly Germans, and others. I haven't 
 time or inclination to make smaller distinc- 
 tions. Mr. Rosenthal quite evidently is 
 willing to share in the horrid work that the 
 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 decent people of the world are uniting to 
 do; work as dreadful as cleaning out a 
 neglected sewer, or putting down a riot in 
 an insane asylum. You won't get me to 
 pretend that there is anything good about 
 war, Jack. I see too much of its misery, 
 even here where we are all really quite out 
 of it. Now, please telephone Mr. Rosenthal 
 today. Find out the address of his wife, 
 and I will write to her. Tell him we want 
 them to come as soon as possible.'^ 
 
 " I suppose I know him well enough to 
 ask them?" said Major Mixter in a semi- 
 interrogative tone, being in truth still in a 
 rather perplexed state of mind at the novelty 
 of his wife's proposal. 
 
 "If I were a nurse in a hospital in 
 France," answered his wife, " I should n't 
 feel it at all necessary to consider my degree 
 of acquaintanceship with a wounded soldier 
 before I decided whether I could take care 
 of him or not." 
 
 "After all," suggested Mixter, "the case 
 is n't quite the same. Rosenthal is n't in the 
 trenches." 
 
 "No," agreed Mrs. Mixter, her cus- 
 tomary drawl becoming a trifle more pro- 
 nounced, " and from a man's point of view 
 
 [175] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 that makes all the difference. Because he 
 isn't in the trenches he may suffer agonies 
 and not deserve any consideration. It 
 does n't matter in the least whether he eats 
 his heart out or cripples himself for life or 
 dies. He is not in the trenches, and con- 
 sequently it is rather an outrage to think of 
 him at all. I know perfectly well, without 
 your telling me, that that is the way you 
 men feel. Of course, you would all think 
 precisely alike about it; just like a lot of 
 sheep. It wouldn't be the thing to have 
 any independent ideas. It would be horrible 
 to say what you really thought; worse 
 than horrible, it would be eccentric. Sheep 
 mustn't be eccentric. But I'm a woman, 
 Jack, and I am not the least bit afraid of 
 describing things as they are." 
 
 Mrs. Mixter paused for a moment, and 
 then went on, with a little laugh. '*Talk 
 about men calling a spade a spade, — they 
 would have to make the most minute in- 
 vestigation as to popular opinion before 
 they assumed the risk of even calling it a 
 shovel." 
 
 Mrs. Mixter's humor was not precisely 
 scintillating, but such as it was it gave her 
 great satisfaction. 
 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 ^^ You won't mind if we have them, will 
 you, Billy?" queried Major Mixter. 
 
 ^^Mind?" repeated the Lieutenant. 
 '' I '11 eat it up." 
 
 Mixter rose from his chair, and going 
 to a side table selected a cigarette and 
 lighted it. 
 
 " It's time we were off," he said. " I '11 
 do my best, Molly, to make Rosenthal feel 
 we want them." 
 
 '^ No one can do that sort of thing better 
 than you, Jack," replied Mrs. Mixter. 
 
 II 
 
 After reporting at his own office. Major 
 Mixter ran down in his car to the corner 
 of loth and N Streets, where the Camp 
 Service Division O. Q. M. G. was located. 
 A personal interview, he decided, was better 
 than the telephone. Mrs. Mixter had done 
 her husband no more than justice when she 
 said he did this sort of thing well. Execu- 
 tion was Jack Mixter's strong point. Molly 
 might suggest a kindly action, but not even 
 she could perform it more gracefully than 
 her husband. On the whole, as good Sa- 
 maritans they were an effective team. 
 
 [177] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 '' Hello, Rosenthal," said Major Mixter. 
 ^^ I thought I would look you up this morn- 
 ing. I 've got something I want to ask 
 you." 
 
 The little man seated behind the large 
 desk raised his eyes in response to the greet- 
 ing and a pleased smile came over his worn 
 face. 
 
 ^^ Awfully glad to see you. Major," he 
 said. " Sit down. It always seems natural 
 and pleasant to have you back here, even if 
 it's only for a call." 
 
 Major Mixter took a chair and gave a 
 searching though apparently casual look 
 at the man he had come to see. 
 
 Mr. Rosenthal's small figure somehow 
 looked very thin and wasted. There were 
 black circles under his pale blue eyes. 
 The disproportionately large nose looked 
 pinched and sharp, and the thin hair, 
 brushed back over his bald head, gave him 
 an almost uncanny and gnome-like aspect. 
 His hands fluttered to and fro over the desk, 
 and he seemed all the time to be bracing 
 himself for an effort. It was as though he 
 feared what might happen if he permitted 
 himself to relax. 
 
 A little more than a year ago Julius 
 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 Rosenthal had been asked to come to Wash- 
 ington because an expert junk man was 
 needed to help handle problems having to 
 do with the salvage of waste in the great 
 cantonments and army posts that had sprung 
 up all over the country, and Rosenthal was 
 one of the best known men in the United 
 States in that sort of business. Overjoyed 
 that it was thought he could be of assistance 
 to the nation in its dark hour he had set out 
 full of the spirit of sacrifice and eager to 
 place his services at the disposal of the mili- 
 tary authorities who had called for him. 
 He had thrown himself heart and soul into 
 his work, and made his section the most effi- 
 cient in the whole Camp Service Division; 
 but it had been a constant fight against dis- 
 couragement, hampering conditions and 
 abnormal methods. The military way of 
 conducting business made him feel as 
 though he were working in a straight- 
 jacket. He could not accustom himself to 
 the interminable red tape involved in even 
 a simple transaction, and more or less un- 
 consciously harbored a smouldering re- 
 sentment that such things were thought 
 necessary. With few exceptions he found 
 people in Washington hard and self-cen- 
 
 [179] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 tered, and so outside of office hours he stuck 
 very closely to his hotel near the Capitol, 
 having practically no amusement and little 
 companionship. Thoughts he had in 
 plenty: about the queerness of the life he 
 was leading, almost as strange as though he 
 had been condemned to live with aborig- 
 ines in a tree-house in Borneo; about the 
 incredible reports he read in the news- 
 papers of doings on the western front; about 
 his son actually there, — there where the 
 noise alone drove men insane. Sometimes 
 his heart would stop beating and the blood 
 in his veins turn to ice. He could not make 
 things seem real. Life was all upside down ; 
 a chaos; a bad dream. Some months ago 
 he had been surprised and disturbed to find 
 himself completely tired out after a day's 
 work but gradually had come to realize that 
 it needed every atom of his strength to get 
 through his daily round. To do that he 
 was doggedly determined; whether he 
 should ever be able to do more had become 
 a matter of indifiference. 
 
 " My wife and I want you and Mrs. 
 Rosenthal to make us a little visit," said 
 Mixter. ^^We are all alone now, except 
 for Eccles, and he doesn't count. We 
 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 thought it would be a good chance to see 
 something of people before the children 
 come on. It 's a fearfully big house, and as 
 dreary as a barn when there 's no one there 
 but ourselves. We mean to ask several 
 people before November, but only one 
 couple at a time, because that is really more 
 comfortable. We wish you would come as 
 soon as Mrs. Rosenthal can get on here. 
 I hope you will both give us the pleasure 
 of your company for a couple of weeks." 
 
 Julius Rosenthal looked at Major Mixter 
 with something like panic in his eyes. 
 Only last night he had lain awake for hours 
 dreading that he would be unable to an- 
 swer a letter on the morrow, or reply 
 accurately to some question of his chief, 
 because his mind had suddenly become a 
 blank. It seemed as though already he 
 had all the problems to deal with that he 
 could possibly face, and here was another, 
 and of a new and unaccustomed sort. His 
 head gave a quick, jerky, involuntary shake. 
 
 ^'That is so nice of you," he said, in an- 
 swer to Major Mixter's suggestion, " and 
 so kind of your wife. Thank her for me. 
 But I am afraid it is impossible. You see. 
 Major, I am very much tied down. And 
 
 [i8i] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Rebecca, my wife, couldn't leave home, I 
 am sure. You see, there is so much to do 
 that we must all save our strength for that. 
 No, Major, you're very good, but it is 
 impossible." 
 
 As the difficulties involved in stepping 
 outside the routine life he had lived for 
 many months presented themselves to Ro- 
 senthal's mind, his fears grew and he be- 
 came excited. 
 
 ^^No, no. Major,'' he went on in plead- 
 ing tones, " it would n't do at all. You are 
 very kind, but I really couldn't leave my 
 present quarters even for a little while. 
 And Rebecca — she is very much of a 
 home body. And then my boy, Ralph — 
 he writes to me at my hotel here, and there 
 would be a delay in my getting letters. No, 
 Major, you are very kind, but I think you 
 had best just let it alone." 
 
 The tones became supplicating. Sud- 
 denly Rosenthal felt as though he could not 
 endure the presence of a visitor who 
 brought with him such a disturbing atmos- 
 phere for a moment longer. Besides, there 
 was creeping over him that longing, which 
 he hated but could not resist, to indulge in 
 thoughts he dreaded^. On a recent trip 
 [182] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 back from New York his train had stopped 
 for several minutes opposite a troop-train 
 going in the opposite direction. The spec- 
 tacle that then met his eyes had since that 
 time appeared with startling vividness at 
 unexpected moments. Hundreds and hun- 
 dreds of strong, vigorous, happy-looking 
 young men penned up like cattle, and like 
 cattle being sent forth to slaughter. Why 
 could n't some one, any one, stop such hor- 
 rors? Rosenthal wanted to think; it be- 
 came necessary to him to get rid of Major 
 Mixter, politely if possible; but at any rate 
 to make him go. His eyes fell on a mass 
 of correspondence on his desk. 
 
 ^^ It 's awfully nice to see you. Major," he 
 went on, " and I can't tell you how glad I 
 am you looked in. But I know you are 
 busy, and you must n't waste too much time 
 here." 
 
 He gazed fixedly at the letters on his 
 desk. 
 
 " Now, look here, old man," said Major 
 Mixter, ^' I know just how you are feeling, 
 because I went through the same thing my- 
 self once, — five years ago. You're in a 
 rut, and that isn't a safe place to stay, es- 
 pecially in times like these. Besides, you 
 
 [183] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 are trying to take in this whole war in one 
 gulp. It can't be done. Attempting it just 
 makes your thoughts go round and round 
 like a squirrel in a cage. ^ Sufficient unto 
 the day is the evil thereof.' That means, as 
 I understand it, take things as they come 
 day by day. You can't handle all the events 
 of the next six months this morning. You 
 are all right, of course; there is really noth- 
 ing the matter with you; but we all have 
 to have a little change now and then." 
 
 Rosenthal stiffened in his chair as though 
 suddenly galvanized by Major Mixter's re- 
 marks, but only said with something of a 
 catch in his voice, '' I don't think Ralph is 
 getting much change." 
 
 ^'You don't really know anything about 
 it," said Mixter emphatically. ^'For all 
 you know, he may be having the time of his 
 life; at any rate, I will bet he never felt in 
 such good health in his life." 
 
 Mr. Rosenthal shook his head. 
 
 " For all I know, he may be lying dead 
 at this moment," he said. He stared at the 
 wall opposite, and a shudder passed over 
 his spare frame. 
 
 *^ I know how you feel," said Mixter, 
 " but it is n't the right way to f eelj just the 
 
 [184] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 same. The question is how your wife is 
 feeling; think of her a little bit. Would n't 
 it cheer her up to come on and be with you 
 for a while? Don't you want to see your 
 wife?" 
 
 Rosenthal stared at the speaker. Want 
 to see Rebecca? Was Major Mixter trying 
 to insult a sorely harassed man? Why, if 
 he could only see Rebecca the whole world 
 would look different; the terrible difficul- 
 ties which piled up higher and higher every 
 day would disappear as if by magic; he 
 would breathe freely; he could sleep at 
 night, actually sleep. But what was the use 
 of yearning to see his wife? He had gone 
 over all that in his mind many times, and 
 it was not likely that a stranger like Major 
 Mixter could tell him anything new on the 
 subject. He could not leave Washington, 
 and now something equally impossible and 
 absurd was being suggested to him. It in- 
 volved endless complications; it would in- 
 terfere with his work, the work he was 
 doing for the sake of Ralph and the coun- 
 try. Why did Major Mixter discuss such 
 nonsense? 
 
 Mixter met his gaze steadily, indeed 
 somewhat sternly. 
 
 [185] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 " I am asking you to think of your wife 
 for a moment," he said in firm tones. 
 ** Isn't it strain enough for her to have her 
 boy overseas v^ithout your breaking down? 
 Don't you want to see your wife?" 
 
 Rosenthal continued to stare at the Ma- 
 jor, and suddenly something inside of him 
 gave a snap and almost caused him to gasp 
 for breath. The hunted look in his eyes 
 disappeared, the deep lines around his 
 mouth were smoothed away, the towering 
 well-like wall his imagination had built 
 around him tumbled down, and for the 
 moment he saw clearly. 
 
 "Why, of course I do," said Mr. Rosen- 
 thal. "There is nothing in the world I 
 want to do so much." 
 
 "Then you'll come?" asked the Major. 
 
 Rosenthal nodded. 
 
 "Come soon," went on Mixter. "My 
 wife will write to Mrs. Rosenthal today, 
 and if she can start at once we will expect 
 you Thursday." 
 
 " You 're awfully kind," said Mr. Rosen- 
 thal. 
 
 "Well, you be kind too," said Mixter, 
 " and promise me one thing. Telegraph 
 your wife today, and then don't think 
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DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 any more about it until it is time for 
 you to meet her at the station. Is that 
 agreed?" 
 
 Rosenthal nodded. His heart was too 
 full for utterance. Miracles were in the 
 air; the impossible was about to happen. 
 He was going to see Rebecca. 
 
 Mixter stopped at Stockdale's office on 
 the way out. 
 
 ^' Look here, Bob," he remarked. " I Ve 
 just been in talking to Rosenthal. He and 
 his wife are coming to visit us. He 's sicker 
 than you thought. You'd better keep an 
 eye on him. Take him out somewhere for 
 the next evening or two. Don't let him 
 work at night. You'll do it, won't you? " 
 
 ^' Rather!" exclaimed Stockdale. I have 
 been trying to make him go away. I can't 
 persuade him. As a matter of fact, I have 
 been begging him to dine with me on and 
 oflf for the last two weeks; but he won't 
 come." 
 
 '^He will now," said Mixter. "You try 
 it." 
 
 He paused for a moment and went on, 
 ^'It's all nonsense, you know. Bob, people 
 thinking that no one but the men in the 
 trenches need any attention. I don't know 
 
 [187] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 who started such a silly idea, but it's all 
 rot anyway. You don't want to let people 
 die all around you, just because they are n't 
 in the trenches. Another thing, you don't 
 want to sit and bite your thumb wondering 
 whether you know people well enough to 
 do anything for them or not. Do you sup- 
 pose a nurse in a hospital in France stops 
 to consider her degree of acquaintanceship 
 with a wounded soldier before she decides 
 whether she can take care of him or not? 
 Honestly, the way some people reason 
 makes me tired. I tell you it's time to 
 wake up a bit and say what you really think, 
 not follow whatever the first person says, 
 like a lot of sheep. I believe in describing 
 things as they are. Call a spade a spade, is 
 what I say." 
 
 Stockdale gazed at his friend steadfastly 
 during this outburst. ^^ You've done the 
 best thing you could for Rosenthal," he 
 said. ^^He won't leave Washington, but 
 this is the next thing to it. You are a good 
 fellow, Jack." 
 
 "Pshaw!" exclaimed Mixter, "there's 
 nothing good about it. Besides," he added, 
 "I had nothing to do with it; it's Molly. 
 Good-bye, old top ! See you later." 
 [i88] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 III 
 
 On the day on which his wife was to 
 arrive Rosenthal left his office a full hour 
 earlier than was necessary to cover the dis- 
 tance to the Union Station, where the train 
 bearing Rebecca would arrive at four in the 
 afternoon. He stepped over to the little 
 park lying between the various buildings of 
 the Smithsonian Institute, very near the 
 domicile of the Camp Service Division 
 O. Q. M. G., and sat down on one of the 
 benches. In an hour, in a few moments 
 really, Rebecca would be with him! He 
 was going to see her here where his work 
 was, — and for two whole weeks. It 
 seemed as though a lifetime of happiness 
 lay before him. He decided he would ac- 
 tually neglect the office a little in order 
 that he might spend more time with Re- 
 becca, and show her the sights of Washing- 
 ton. They had been here on their honey- 
 moon twenty- five years ago. Rebecca would 
 think things had changed some ! Still there 
 was a lot which was just as it had been: the 
 Capitol, the White House, the monument. 
 They would see it all again together. And 
 
 [189] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 the Smithsonian Institute. He raised his 
 eyes and stared at the old red brick build- 
 ing before him. How Rebecca had rev- 
 elled in the gowns of the Presidents' wives 
 displayed within those walls ! To Rebecca, 
 being in Washington would be a sightseeing 
 holiday, and here was he come to regard 
 the Smithsonian Institute merely as a land- 
 mark near his place of business. Rosenthal 
 began to feel quite like Marco Polo, or 
 some other seasoned traveller. Rebecca 
 would be surprised at the offhand way her 
 husband treated famous places. Rosenthal 
 chuckled aloud. He did n't know when he 
 had been so happy; never, it seemed. And 
 only three days ago when he got up in the 
 morning, and all the way walking to the 
 oiBce, the sky had looked black, not fig- 
 uratively but actually black, although 
 the sun had been shining brightly at the 
 time. Certainly he had been getting in 
 a bad way, but Major Mixter had some- 
 how made him see that even for the sake 
 of his work he mustn't go on as he had 
 been doing. It frightened him now to re- 
 member what his state of mind had been. 
 It was too queer; he had been living for 
 months in a nightmare. How had it hap- 
 [190] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 pened? he wondered. He felt tired now, 
 worn out really; but things had taken on a 
 normal aspect; he was not oppressed con- 
 tinually by a sense of unreasoning fear, and 
 that was all that mattered. As long as 
 that didn't come back he was quite con- 
 tent to feel tired and exhausted. He gave 
 a sigh of happy relief, and started to walk 
 down to Pennsylvania Avenue on his way 
 to the station. 
 
 A very happy couple arrived at the Mix- 
 ter house on New Hampshire Avenue late 
 that afternoon. Mrs. Rosenthal proved to 
 be a really handsome woman, with jet black 
 hair, bright black eyes, and entire refine- 
 ment of manner. Before dinner she and 
 Mrs. Mixter had a confidential talk. 
 
 ^^ I could n't have felt we ought to ac- 
 cept your very kind invitation," she said, 
 "if you had not told us what you did in 
 your letter about Julius. I blame myself 
 so much. I had no idea he had been so 
 miserable. His letters were always cheer- 
 ful. Oh, dear; it has been so hard to know 
 what it was right to do lately. I am afraid 
 I haven't done all a wife should, and Julius 
 has always been a perfect husband to me." 
 Tears came into the little woman's eyes. 
 
 [191] 
 
I 
 
 AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 '^ It has not been easy for any of us to 
 know what we really ought to do," replied 
 Mrs. Mixter. ^^ We can only move step by 
 step as things come before us, hoping that 
 all will come out right in the end." 
 
 ^^ Julius looks so awfully," sobbed his 
 wife. 
 
 ''My dear," said Mrs. Mixter, ''he will 
 look like a different man in a day or two 
 now. We must all make him have a good 
 time and really enjoy himself. That is the 
 only cure for his sort of illness." 
 
 "I am sure I will try," said Mrs. Rosen- 
 thal, still sobbing. " I don't feel as though 
 I could leave him for a minute." 
 
 "I was going to suggest," went on her 
 hostess, " that you take the car every day at 
 noon and go down and take Mr. Rosenthal 
 out to lunch. That will make him very 
 happy. In the evenings we can stay here 
 and talk quietly, or perhaps go to the theatre 
 occasionally; and we might motor down 
 to Mount Vernon on Sunday." 
 
 "You are so good," said Mrs. Rosenthal. 
 " Why are you so good to us? " 
 
 " Because your husband is a brave sol- 
 dier," answered Mary Mixter, smiling, 
 " and everybody loves a soldier today." 
 [192] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 ^^ I will tell Julius that," said his wife. 
 ^^ He is afraid he has made a failure of his 
 work, and will be so glad to know people 
 think he hasn't." 
 
 The days passed happily, and therefore 
 very quickly. The Rosenthals went sight- 
 seeing all over Washington, as though it 
 were their honeymoon days again. At the 
 home dinners Lieut. Eccles proved to be 
 the best possible tonic. His somewhat 
 bizarre style of conversation, while it mys- 
 tified Mrs. Rosenthal, caused her husband 
 to laugh as he had never expected to laugh 
 again. 
 
 One afternoon they all motored across 
 the river to Arlington. It was at the close 
 of a perfect day, and as they stood in front 
 of the dignified old Lee Mansion and looked 
 across the Potomac to Washington the tran- 
 quil, lovely scene brought peace and solace 
 to the hearts of each. Over Potomac Park 
 hovered two aeroplanes. As they looked, 
 one of them turned nose downward and 
 dropped like a falling leaf to within a hun- Si 
 dred feet of the ground, when it righted 
 itself and soared up again. The dome of 
 the Capitol, the monument and the church 
 spires stood out against the sky above the 
 
 [193] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 countless buildings of Washington, and in 
 the early twilight the city and the river 
 made an almost magic picture. There 
 stood in beauty like a dream, Freedom's 
 citadel, — the hope of a world well-nigh 
 rent asunder. On the way back to the car 
 Julius Rosenthal and his wife walked a 
 little behind the others. 
 
 ** These are soldiers' graves, mother," he 
 said, ^^ all soldiers' graves. I used to think 
 that if Ralph should be killed it would be 
 nothing but waste and needless tragedy. 
 But when I realize what I feel for the men 
 who lie here, I don't know; I almost believe 
 I could bear it." 
 
 " I know Ralph will live," answered his 
 wife. " Somehow I have never feared 
 greatly for him." 
 
 ^^I am beginning to feel that way, too, 
 mother," answered Rosenthal. "I can 
 think of him now as being well and happy." 
 
 After they had returned to the house on 
 New Hampshire Avenue Rosenthal man- 
 |l aged to have a little talk alone with Mrs. 
 Mixter. 
 
 '' This has been the happiest time of my 
 life," he said. " You will never know what 
 you have done for Rebecca and me. The 
 
 [194] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 world has become again what it used to be 
 many years ago. For the last twelve months 
 I have wondered how Rebecca and I could 
 ever have liked Washington. Now the 
 beauty of it has all come back. I feel so 
 happy, so well, I could face anything now. 
 Good-night." 
 
 As he left the room Mrs. Mixter could 
 not help remarking how frail and deli- 
 cate the little man looked. The harassed 
 expression had given place to one of 
 perfect contentment, but Mr. Rosenthal 
 looked as though a breath might blow him 
 away. 
 
 IV 
 
 The next morning at breakfast Mrs. 
 Rosenthal appeared alone. 
 
 ^^ Julius is not at all well," she said. ^^ I 
 think I would like to have a doctor see 
 him." Her face looked almost haggard. 
 
 " By Jove, that is too bad," exclaimed 
 Major Mixter. '' I will call Dr. Owen at 
 once on the telephone. He is the best 
 in Washington. What seems to be the 
 matter?" 
 
 "He coughs a great deal and his head 
 
 [195] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 aches, and I think he has a fever," answered 
 Mrs. Rosenthal. 
 
 Major Mixter glanced quickly at his 
 wife. ^^ Keep him in bed until the doctor 
 comes. It is always well to be careful, al- 
 though this is probably nothing but a cold." 
 But Major Mixter looked worried. 
 
 ^'Molly," he said to his wife when they 
 were alone together after breakfast, ^' I '11 
 bet a hat it's the influenza. The town is 
 full of it. Dr. Owen will be here by eleven. 
 Talk things over with him, and he will tell 
 you what precautions to take. I don't want 
 you to take any chances." 
 
 " Don't worry. Jack," answered his wife, 
 *^I am not a bit afraid of contagious dis- 
 eases. I am thankful the children aren't 
 here; but there is nothing for the rest of 
 us to be disturbed about." 
 
 ^^You are a trump, Molly,'^ said Jack 
 Mixter as he kissed his wife good-bye, " but 
 don't take unnecessary risks." 
 
 Dr. Owen stopped to speak with Mrs. 
 Mixter on his way out. 
 
 *^Yes, it is the influenza," he answered, 
 as he drew on his gloves, " and I am sorry 
 to say a bad case. The patient appears to 
 have no resistance. His reserve force seems 
 
 [196] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 to be completely exhausted and he is in a 
 frightfully run-down physical condition. 
 His system was ready for any sort of dis- 
 ease. If it hadn't been the influenza it 
 would probably have been something else. 
 I shall come in again this evening." 
 
 Pneumonia did not delay even the cus- 
 tomary three days but set in almost at once. 
 On the fourth day after that on which 
 Rosenthal had been taken ill Mrs. Mixter 
 had another talk with the doctor. He 
 looked very grave. 
 
 ^' Do what you can to help his wife over 
 a bad time," he said. " I have told her that 
 it would be cruel for me to pretend that 
 there was any hope." 
 
 That night at about ten o'clock Julius 
 Rosenthal sent down word that he would 
 like to speak to Major Mixter a moment. 
 
 ^* Go, Jack," said his wife. " Tell him we 
 are thinking of him." 
 
 Julius Rosenthal lay tossing on a bed of 
 fever. His pale blue eyes were unnaturally 
 bright, his hands plucked constantly at 
 the coverlet, his cheeks were sunken, and a 
 racking cough shook his frame almost 
 continually. 
 
 ^^ Good of you to come up. Major. I 
 
 [197] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 can't thank you for all you have done. I Ve 
 been so happy. I am so happy now. I 
 know I'm a desperately sick man. I am 
 not going to get well. If it was n't for Re- 
 becca I would be glad. I see now what a 
 wonderful opportunity I 've had here in 
 Washington. Just think of it, I was asked 
 to come here and work for the Army, for the 
 Country, here where all the best and big- 
 gest men in America have come. What a 
 chance for Julius Rosenthal, junk dealer! 
 I hope I 've made good at it. God knows 
 I 've tried. To be called and to have failed 
 would be more than I could bear. I 've 
 hated it, and I 've suffered, but I 've stuck to 
 my work. And it was worth doing. Every 
 little helps. I've had a part in the great 
 crusade. It all looks differently to me now. 
 I don't believe I could ever go back to my 
 own business, even if I lived. It was too 
 small a life. I 've suffered, but I 've lived 
 in the midst of great events ; the greatest the 
 world has ever seen. I 've learned to know 
 what a man's country means to him. No, 
 I couldn't go back. And somehow I feel 
 as though Ralph was all right. I can't ex- 
 plain it, but it's so." 
 
 A great fit of coughing shook the little 
 
 [198] 
 
DISTINGUISHED SERVICE 
 
 man from head to foot. Exhausted, he 
 closed his eyes and lay silent in a state al- 
 most of coma. 
 
 More than three thousand miles away, 
 Sergeant Rosenthal stepped briskly out in 
 front of his company, saluted and stood at 
 attention. A smooth-faced, white-haired 
 officer wearing two stars on his shoulders 
 returned the salute and then read solemnly 
 from a paper in his hand: 
 
 " Rosenthal, Ralph, Sergeant Com- 
 pany M 6ioth Infantry. (A.S. No. 
 4,383,209). For extraordinary heroism 
 in action near Longuyon, France. Taking 
 command of his platoon after its com- 
 mander had been seriously wounded, Ser- 
 geant Rosenthal led it with remarkable 
 daring through heavy machine-gun fire and 
 captured three machine-gun nests. Return- 
 ing to his own lines Sergeant Rosenthal sent 
 the remaining members of the platoon 
 ahead and himself carried in on his shoul- 
 ders under heavy fire a wounded American 
 officer. Home address, Mrs. J. Rosenthal, 
 mother, 28 Shartle St., Cleveland, Ohio." 
 
 The general stepped forward and pinned 
 a decoration on Ralph Rosenthal's breast. 
 
 " I congratulate you, Sergeant," he said, 
 and held out his hand. 
 
 [199] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 Sergeant Rosenthal shook hands, saluted 
 and stepped back to his place in the ranks 
 with glowing eyes, while the cheers of his 
 company rent the air. 
 
 Julius Rosenthal turned uneasily in bed, 
 and opening his eyes gazed fixedly at Major 
 Mixter. 
 
 ^^Somehow I am sure Ralph is all right," 
 he said earnestly, ^^that he is well and doing 
 his duty. It makes me proud and happy to 
 be part of the army in which my boy is a 
 gallant soldier. Good-night, Major, and 
 thank you again." 
 
 Major Mixter's eyes were dim. 
 
 " Good-night, old man," he said, patting 
 for a moment the hand on the coverlet. 
 ^^ I '11 send your wife in to you. Good- 
 night. I '11 see you in the morning." 
 
 Rosenthal nodded. ^^ Perhaps so," he 
 said with a faint smile. But before dawn 
 Julius Rosenthal had laid down his life for 
 his country. 
 
 [200] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 VICTORY was in the air. The 
 hurrying crowds of officers, gov- 
 ernment clerks and civilian war 
 workers that thronged the streets of Wash- 
 ington from eight-thirty to nine A.M. every 
 day, wore a holiday appearance on the 
 morning of November 6, 191 8. The city 
 had been cheering up for the last two 
 weeks. Drawn faces, indicative of nerves 
 almost cracking under routine and strain, 
 were replaced by broadly smiling counte- 
 nances that looked out on a new world. 
 The grass in Lafayette Square took on a 
 brighter hue of green, the calm dignity of 
 the White House seemed once again to have 
 come into its own, while the dome of the 
 Capitol beamed over all Washington in the 
 bright sunlight. The dove of peace had not 
 yet alighted on the Washington monument, 
 but as Mixter, adopting Mr. Bright's fa- 
 
 [203] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 mous allusion, had remarked the evening 
 before, if you listened you could almost 
 hear the beating of its wings. 
 
 Down in the office of the Camp Service 
 Division O. Q. M. G. at the corner of Tenth 
 and N Streets, General Gish, military mar- 
 tinet by profession, jumping over the traces 
 of a habit of twenty years' standing, re- 
 sponded to Stockdale's formal greeting of 
 *^ Good-morning, Sir," with the remark, 
 "Hullo, old man!" The section heads of 
 the Division postponed attention to business 
 long enough to exchange cheerful bits of 
 gossip and rumored items of good news with 
 one another. Stenographers taking dictation 
 were inclined to be conversational, and sec- 
 ond lieutenants forgot their uniforms and 
 took on the manners and bearing of college 
 boys after a football game. Stockdale, who 
 was leaving at noon for a five days' vacation 
 at the country house of his friend Tom 
 Montgomery down on Chesapeake Bay, 
 five miles from Annapolis, decided that the 
 first and most pressing business of the day 
 was to indite a note to Miss Lovering, who 
 was to be one of the house-party. The two 
 had met with increasing frequency since 
 her return to Washington in late Septem- 
 [204] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 ber, and there had grown up between them 
 something like a genuine intimacy. Her 
 hair the color of daffodils and her air of 
 high breeding, charming though they were, 
 had come to mean less to Stockdale than 
 her frank and downright willingness to be 
 her real self, and a very wholesome and lov- 
 able self it was, even in casual social inter- 
 course. The war had affected many persons 
 of both sexes in just that way. Stock- 
 dale's epistolary style had become some- 
 what cramped and stereotyped by reason of 
 the number of letters he had written during 
 the last ten months, according to the ap- 
 proved formula for military corespondence, 
 but he did his best. 
 
 ^^Do you want an excuse for a little out- 
 door exercise?" he asked first lieutenant 
 William Price, who was one of the assist- 
 ants in the Legal Section. ^^ If so, take this 
 note to that address on K Street, will you? " 
 
 First Lieutenant William Price accepted 
 the letter eagerly, put on his cap, stood 
 at attention and remarked gravely, " K 
 Street? Very well. I will be back at 
 two o'clock." 
 
 '^ Don't hurry," called out Stockdale as 
 the lieutenant closed the door behind him. 
 
 [205] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 II 
 
 As the limousine which was to convey 
 her to Camp Shiloh and thence to the 
 Montgomerys' house crossed the bridge 
 over the Potomac River and struck out into 
 the open country, Miss Lovering leaned 
 back and opened the letter which had been 
 handed to her just as she left her house in 
 Washington. It was written on very offi- 
 cial looking paper, and ran as follows : 
 
 " From: Her humblest admirer. 
 To: The beautiful Miss Lovering. 
 Subject: Proposition regarding transporta- 
 tion. 
 
 1. It having come to the attention of this 
 office that you are to play at the concert 
 to be given at Base Hospital No. 34, 
 Camp Shiloh, this afternoon, you are 
 informed that the undersigned is an 
 intimate friend of Col. Dawson, com- 
 manding the aforesaid Base Hospital, 
 and that he intends to be present at the 
 concert. 
 
 2. It appearing from an oral report of 
 Thomas Montgomery, Esq., of Carter 
 Hall, near Annapolis, that you are to 
 motor to his residence from Camp Shiloh 
 after the concert referred to in the pre- 
 ceding paragraph, the writer humbly 
 
 [206] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 beseeches that you will take him along 
 with you on this stage of your journey. 
 Otherwise he will be compelled to retrace 
 his steps to Annapolis Junction and 
 thence proceed by trolley, which, con- 
 sidering the way those cars bang around, 
 is more than should be asked of any man. 
 
 3. This proposition has received the ap- 
 proval of all the officials of the Quarter- 
 master's Department in any way con- 
 cerned therewith, and the undersigned 
 takes the liberty of congratulating you 
 on this opportunity to serve your country. 
 
 4. Isn't the war news wonderful? 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 Robert Stockdale. 
 P.S. I hope you are going to sing as well 
 as play." 
 
 As has been said, the day was bright 
 and cheerful, and Miss Lovering smiled 
 happily. 
 
 Stockdale arrived at the Base Hospital 
 too late for the beginning of the concert. 
 He stopped for only a moment's chat vs^ith 
 Col. Dawson in his office, and then, guided 
 by an orderly, went down the almost inter- 
 minably long passageways of the hospital 
 to the recreation room on the surgical side. 
 At most of the Cantonments in the country 
 the Red Cross had built commodious and 
 [207] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 well-appointed convalescent houses or so- 
 lariums. At Camp Shiloh, however, owing 
 to a misunderstanding with the Command- 
 ing General, this building was not yet com- 
 pleted, and Col. Dawson continued to use 
 two of his hospital wards as rest rooms for 
 men on the road to recovery. After all, 
 they were the most cheerful and attractive 
 places in the entire camp, and had been the 
 means of bringing many a man back to nor- 
 mal health in record time. 
 
 Stockdale found the music room, as it 
 was called, crowded almost to overflowing 
 with more than two hundred men in khaki 
 seated in chairs arranged in orderly rows 
 and occupying the entire ward except a 
 narrow aisle down the centre and a small 
 space at the end opposite the door, which 
 was reserved for the piano and the per- 
 formers. Stockdale wedged himself in be- 
 hind the last row of chairs, and looked 
 about through the blue haze of tobacco 
 smoke which was pouring out from a hun- 
 dred mouths. The walls of the room were 
 draped with the flags of all the Allied Na- 
 tions, and were hung with a great variety 
 of bright colored pictures, sporting prints 
 and so on, as well as handsome steel engrav- 
 [ 208 ] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 ings of Washington, Lincoln, Grant and 
 Wilson. A dozen or more of the men pres- 
 ent wore dressing gowns, and were propped 
 up in leather-backed Morris chairs, while 
 as many more wheel chairs testified to the 
 eagerness of convalescents to attend the Red 
 Cross concert if the thing were possible. 
 The great majority of the men, so far as 
 Stockdale could observe, looked hearty and 
 cheerful. At any rate, there was a distinct 
 atmosphere of exhilaration over the gather- 
 ing, although the silent attention during the 
 singing and playing left nothing to be de- 
 sired. Katherine Lovering stood a little 
 to the left of the piano, her violin under her 
 chin, her head a little on one side, her eyes 
 dreamy with the music, playing the haunt- 
 ing melody of the Barcarolle from the Tales 
 of Hoffman. As she finished there was a 
 moment's silence, and then came a burst of 
 hand-clapping and a roar of applause that 
 threatened to raise the roof of the recrea- 
 tion room. ''More! More! More!" 
 shouted the men in khaki; and Miss Lover- 
 ing, her face glowing with delight, played 
 the Barcarolle again. There was no mis- 
 taking the joy she felt in her employment. 
 Many times had she done the same thing 
 
 [ 209 ] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 before; and nearer the front than any of 
 her present auditors were now likely to get. 
 As she played she almost felt within herself 
 the glow and exultation of those other men 
 in France, and in her heart there welled up 
 a deep and joyful feeling of thankfulness 
 to God that the slaughter and suffering 
 were nearly over. 
 
 Apparently it was the really good music 
 which the men enjoyed most. The attempt 
 of Mr. Dalton, who sang, to bring himself 
 down to what he erroneously supposed 
 was the level of his audience, was hardly 
 successful. The pseudo-comic ditty in 
 which, suiting the action to the word, he 
 declared, 
 
 ** I sing a little tenor, — 
 I sing a little barytone, — 
 Also sing a little base," 
 
 did not meet with much enthusiasm. Mr. 
 Dalton more than made up for this, how- 
 ever, by his really magnificent singing of 
 ^^The Kavanaugh." As he came to the 
 last verse, a voice from the audience joined 
 in with his, a tenor voice so high and 
 true and sweet that Stockdale felt himself 
 gripped by emotion and, after the song was 
 over, joined the men in shouting, '^ Smithy I " 
 [210] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 '' Smithy 1 " '' Make him sing Joan of Arc ! " 
 And when Smithy, routed out by the Red 
 Cross Field Director, who acted as Master 
 of Ceremonies, hobbled forward on his 
 crutches and sang ^^Joan of Arc" with a 
 voice which might have belonged to one 
 of the heavenly choir, Stockdale's demand 
 for an encore represented a genuine en- 
 thusiasm. Before he had heard half he 
 wanted to hear it was time for the concert 
 to end. 
 
 Miss Lovering came forward, her violin 
 under her chin and her head a little on one 
 side. She looked appealingly at the men 
 before her. " I am going to play, and to 
 try and sing, 'The Long, Long Trail.' 
 Won't you sing it with me?" 
 
 There was no answer, except adoring 
 glances from more than two hundred men 
 in khaki, but when the verse was ended a 
 mighty chorus joyfully proclaimed, 
 
 " There 's a long, long trail a-winding, 
 Into the land of my dreams." 
 
 "Three cheers for the concert," shouted 
 Sergeant Cubbins, as the last note died 
 away. Then, ''Three cheers for the 
 violin!" 
 
 [211] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 ^* Shall we hurry along?*" asked Miss 
 Lovering as Stockdale, the room having 
 nearly emptied, made his way to her side. 
 '' The request for transportation is ap- 
 proved and allowed," she added. 
 
 ^' I beg your pardon, Miss," said a red- 
 faced hospital orderly, his tall khaki-clad 
 form towering over Miss Lovering, ^^but 
 I wonder if you 'd come and play just one 
 piece in my ward? I Ve got four men there 
 who were smashed up awful bad in a motor 
 truck accident, and I know it would do 
 them a lot of good." 
 
 "It is allowed, isn't it?" asked Miss Lov- 
 ering, appealing to the Red Cross man. 
 
 " We '11 chance it anyhow," he answered, 
 " if you have the time." 
 
 There were at least a dozen men lying in 
 bed in Surgical Ward 19; four of the faces 
 looked frail and wan, with pain and suffer- 
 ing. Standing just inside the door. Miss 
 Lovering played as she had never played 
 before. There was joy in her heart, and 
 sympathy and love. She played again and 
 again. Finally she lowered her violin. " I 
 must go now," she said. " Good-night. 
 There's a better time coming soon. The 
 war is ending." 
 
 [212] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS \ 
 
 "Good-night; thank you; good-night," i 
 
 came back a grateful chorus. 
 
 Carrying her violin, Stockdale escorted 
 Miss Lovering back towards the Adminis- ■ 
 
 trative Offices. "Did you like it?" she l 
 
 asked, glancing at him as they started down t 
 
 the long, connecting, horizontal passage- i 
 
 way, deserted at this time of night. ; 
 
 " Almost as much as the men it was given I 
 
 for," answered Stockdale. 1 
 
 "Do you think they liked it?" pursued 5 
 
 Miss Lovering. { 
 
 " I thought even the cripples would leap I 
 
 from their seats and fly to you when you ; 
 
 asked them to join you in singing ' The ' 
 
 Long, Long Trail.' " He paused a moment 
 and looked at his companion. "And I 
 shouldn't have blamed them if they had," 
 he added. ' 
 
 For what followed, one person was en- 
 tirely responsible. Coming a trifle nearer 
 to Stockdale, Miss Lovering put her head \ 
 
 a little on one side, smiled provokingly, and ^ 
 
 said, "Won't you sing it with me?" | 
 
 Without hesitation Stockdale bent for- j 
 
 ward quickly and kissed her. Miss Lover- j 
 
 ing's cheeks flamed scarlet, but she uttered j 
 
 not a word as the two walked on, and meet- j 
 
 [213] ) 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 ing CoL Dawson in the entrance hall of the 
 Administration Building, paused to say 
 good-night. 
 
 "Well, Bob, how did you enjoy the con- 
 cert?" asked the Colonel, after he had 
 thanked Miss Lovering for her kindness in 
 coming out to his hospital from Washington. 
 
 " I never enjoyed one better, old man," 
 Stockdale answered. "You've got a won- 
 derful plant here," he added irrelevantly, 
 " and a good man at the head of it." 
 
 " Thank you," said the Colonel. " A kind 
 word now and then is n't amiss. I thought 
 perhaps you might stay and dine with me, 
 and we could talk things over a bit." 
 
 " Sorry," said Stockdale, " I 'm on my 
 way to Tom Montgomery's. Miss Lover- 
 ing has said she will be kind enough to take 
 me down. Good-night, Ben. It looks as 
 though your troubles would soon be over 
 now." 
 
 "It looks promising, certainly," agreed 
 the Colonel. " Good-night." 
 
 The limousine sped through the streets 
 of the cantonment, out on to the highroad 
 for Annapolis. They had covered a good 
 many miles in complete silence before Miss 
 Lovering said in a low voice, " You kissed 
 me." [214] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 Not being able to oppose any denial to 
 this bald statement of fact, Stockdale said 
 nothing. 
 
 ^^ Why did you do it?" asked Miss Lov- 
 ering. 
 
 To Stockdale, brutal frankness seemed 
 the only method of dealing with this ex- 
 perienced young woman of the great world. 
 
 ^^Because you looked as though you ex- 
 pected me to," he said. 
 
 Miss Lovering turned her head and gazed 
 out of the window. 
 
 ''I did," she said softly. "In fact, I 
 made you." 
 
 Stockdale stared ahead of him with set 
 expression. 
 
 "Did it mean anything to you, except that 
 you were in high spirits because the war is 
 going to end?" asked Miss Lovering, as 
 she turned her head back from the window. 
 Her voice sounded the least bit strange, and 
 Stockdale's heart gave a great jump. The 
 love that he had cherished for her for many 
 weeks, but had not dared to speak, rushed 
 to his lips and clamored for utterance. He 
 held it back manfully, however, and merely 
 repeated her own words. 
 
 " Did it mean anything to you? " he asked. 
 
 [215] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 He looked down at her, and found that the 
 fashionable Miss Lovering seemed sud- 
 denly to have become a little girl, a very- 
 little girl indeed. The blue eyes, as they 
 looked in his, were moist with unshed tears. 
 There was the look in them of a frightened 
 child that craves protection. She held her 
 lips tightly closed, as though to keep back 
 sobs which she feared might come. She 
 nodded her head. 
 
 ^^ You can't mean that you care for me? " 
 asked Stockdale, '^ that you love me as I 
 do you?" 
 
 Once again Miss Lovering nodded, 
 though her lips were closed tighter than 
 ever. 
 
 ^^It isn't fair," said Stockdale. ^^ Per- 
 haps there are men who might deserve it; 
 but I — " 
 
 Miss Lovering's hand rested for a mo- 
 ment on Stockdale's arm. '' Don't say 
 that," she said, still softly, ^^ I am so happy." 
 
 Ill 
 
 The Montgomerys' house was an historic 
 old red brick mansion, with six tall white 
 pillars in front and a lawn that sloped for 
 [216] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 a quarter of a mile straight away from the 
 house to a bluff overhanging Chesapeake 
 Bay. It stood alone on a point of land, 
 bounded on either side by a bayou or creek 
 running back from the bay for a mile or 
 more. Across the water in the far dis- 
 tance could be seen the spires and roofs of 
 Annapolis and the dome of the chapel of 
 the Naval Academy. 
 
 On Thursday, the seventh of November, 
 the day after the arrival of Miss Lovering 
 and Stockdale, Tom Montgomery proposed 
 that they should motor into Annapolis after 
 lunch, while he did some chores and made 
 some purchases. That was the way in 
 which he phrased his suggestion, but the 
 truth of the matter was he was anxious to 
 hear the latest news. The Montgomerys 
 had a son in the Service, on a destroyer off 
 the south coast of Ireland. Tom Mont- 
 gomery professed to be wholly indifferent 
 as to the precise moment when the war 
 should end. 
 
 '^ We've got them on the run," he said, 
 "and isn't that enough? What difference 
 does it make whether they sign an Armis- 
 tice now or are smashed to smithereens next 
 spring?" 
 
 [217] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 He was a fat, jolly looking man of forty- 
 six or seven, a classmate at Harvard of 
 Stockdale's, although slightly older than 
 the latter, and was reputed to have no nerv- 
 ous system. Mrs. Montgomery, however, 
 knew better than that. She shook her head 
 at him across the luncheon table when he 
 made the remark quoted above, and ob- 
 served, ^'You won't hear any news today, 
 Tom." 
 
 "Nonsense," responded her husband, "I 
 don't want any news. I thought Katherine 
 and Bob might enjoy a little turn in the 
 motor." 
 
 In the quaint old town of Annapolis the 
 car drew up to the curb in front of a 
 shop just opposite the old brick Episcopal 
 Church. 
 
 " Be back in a minute," said Tom Mont- 
 gomery, getting out from the front seat. 
 " Got a few things to buy in here." 
 
 The fresh country air had made Miss 
 Lovering and Stockdale drowsy, and Mrs. 
 Montgomery, the most considerate and tact- 
 ful of women, did not compel the others 
 to talk by talking herself. All three sat 
 quiet in the sleepy old street. The bell in 
 the tower of the little old-fashioned church 
 [218] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 began to ring. Stockdale looked up lazily 
 and saw it swinging to and fro. He lowered 
 his gaze and continued to drowse. The bell 
 kept on ringing. Three or four minutes 
 went by. Suddenly Mrs. Montgomery 
 sat upright. ^^ I wonder — " she said. 
 Stockdale looked at her without under- 
 standing. 
 
 ^'There's probably a fire somewhere," he 
 observed. 
 
 Tom Montgomery came out of the shop 
 and climbed into the front seat, where he 
 sat looking straight before him, but the 
 others had noticed that his ruddy face had 
 gone curiously white. 
 
 ^^Tom, what is that bell ringing for?" 
 asked his wife, in vibrant tones. There was 
 a moment's silence, and then Montgomery 
 answered, ^^ It is ringing because of the 
 complete surrender of Germany." Mrs. 
 Montgomery fell back limply on the cush- 
 ions of the car. ^' Don't speak to me," she 
 said. 
 
 ^^ Thank God," ejaculated Stockdale. 
 
 Miss Lovering's eyes were shining like 
 stars. 
 
 As they sped back to Carter Hall other 
 bells took up the joyous clamor, whistles 
 
 [219] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 blew, and the sleepy old town of Annapolis 
 became for the moment a mere volume of 
 sound. 
 
 ^^Having it actually happen is so differ- 
 ent from believing that it was gong to hap- 
 pen," said Miss Lovering in low tones when 
 they were all seated on the terrace at Carter 
 Hall. Tom Montgomery made a frank 
 and manly confession. 
 
 "Now that it is all over," he said, ''I 
 don't mind owning up that I did n't see 
 how I was going to get through those three 
 days the Germans were to have to consider 
 their answer. I feel as though I could for- 
 give them a lot for being so prompt." 
 
 Commander Wells from the Naval Acad- 
 emy was dining at Carter Hall that evening. 
 " Great news, old man," exclaimed Tom 
 Montgomery on his arrival. " I can't be- 
 lieve even yet the Armistice is actually 
 signed." 
 
 Commander Wells looked almost embar- 
 rassed as he gazed on his host's jolly 
 countenance. 
 
 " I would n't if I were you," he observed. 
 
 "Why not?" demanded Montgomery, 
 his lower jaw falling and the brightness 
 dying out of his eyes. 
 
 [220] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 ^^Oh, it's coming all right; don't worry. 
 It's time to put the champagne on ice, but 
 I would n't open it yet. Lansing has come 
 out with an official denial that the Armis- 
 tice has been signed, or that the German 
 Commissioners have even reached the Al- 
 lied lines as yet." 
 
 It was hard work getting through dinner 
 that night, although each person present 
 deserved a medal for gallantry for the efifort 
 made to talk of ^^ other things." It was even 
 harder making the time pass on Friday, 
 Saturday and Sunday. 
 
 On Sunday Stockdale and Montgomery 
 went off to play a foursome of golf with 
 two naval officers on the Academy links. 
 
 '' By Jove," said the latter that evening, 
 *^ it seemed as though the church bells 
 started to ring every time I had a difficult 
 putt to make. And every time I heard them 
 I would jump with excitement and miss 
 my putt. After I 'd done that I would rec- 
 ollect that it was Sunday." 
 
 Stockdale woke up the next morning 
 while it was yet dark. He rubbed his eyes, 
 turned on the electric light by the head of 
 his bed, and looked at his watch. It was 
 quarter to five o'clock. Stockdale shook 
 [221] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 his head and putting out the light lay down 
 again and tried to sleep. Presently he sat 
 up once more. A faint though constant 
 sound, apparently coming from a distance, 
 seemed to enter with the breeze through the 
 open window. He listened intently. It 
 was the sound of bells, — of bells ringing 
 in Annapolis, miles away. For an hour he 
 lay quiet, his ears strained to catch the 
 sound and waiting for it to stop. The bells 
 kept on ringing. Stockdale dressed and 
 made his way to the stairs. Coming up 
 them, in his dressing gown, was Tom 
 Montgomery. 
 
 ^*It is true this time?" asked Stockdale. 
 
 ^^ It is true this time, old man," answered 
 his host. " I 've been telephoning since 
 half-past four. I Ve got it from Annapolis, 
 from Baltimore, from Washington. It's 
 official." 
 
 "Then your boy is all right," said Stock- 
 dale. "No more submarines. I'm glad 
 for you, Tom." 
 
 " I 'm going in to tell my wife now," said 
 Montgomery. " She 's been awake all 
 night. I promised her I wouldn't report 
 anything until I was absolutely certain; I 
 am now, thank God." 
 
 [222] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 IV 
 
 Shortly after dinner that night Stock- 
 dale remarked, ^* Katherine and I are going 
 out in the canoe for a bit; it is still down 
 by the little pier, is n't it? " 
 
 " I suppose it is," answered Tom Mont- 
 gomery, ^^ but do you know what time of 
 year it is?" 
 
 Stockdale did not answer ^^It's summer 
 in my heart," as was his inclination, but in- 
 stead replied, ^^We are only going for a 
 short time, and Katherine can take wraps. 
 There's a moon." 
 
 " If Katherine goes she shall wear Tom's 
 ulster," said Mrs. Montgomery with de- 
 cision. 
 
 " Give it to me," laughed Miss Lovering. 
 ^' It is sure to fit." 
 
 She buttoned the ulster to the chin, and 
 turned up the collar. It touched the 
 ground, and Miss Lovering had to gather 
 it up in her hands, and her skirts under- 
 neath as well, in order to walk easily. ^^ All 
 ready," she said. 
 
 At the head of the little creek running 
 back from the bay Stockdale made Miss 
 Lovering comfortable in the middle of the 
 
 [ 223 ] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 canoe and taking up the paddle pushed off. 
 The moon cast a bright path over the water, 
 and made a soft light by which things were 
 almost as visible as by day. 
 
 Stockdale paddled on some minutes in 
 silence. ^^ Katherine, are you sure you want 
 me?" he said at length. ^^You are a girl, 
 with everything before you, and I am a 
 middle-aged man, an old man really. Are 
 you sure you know what you are doing? " 
 
 The little-girl look had come back on 
 Miss Lovering's face again. She nodded, 
 her eyes fixed on those of Stockdale. 
 " Please don't say that any more," she 
 pleaded. '' Promise." 
 
 '^I promise," said Stockdale. He ran 
 the canoe in under the bank so that it rested 
 on bottom underneath the overhanging 
 bows of a tall willow tree, and going for- 
 ward a little sat at Miss Lovering's feet. 
 Over the water the light breeze brought 
 the faint sound of bells ringing in the old 
 city of Annapolis, — the peace bells. 
 
 '' The war is ended," said Stockdale. '^ It 
 seems like a dream." 
 
 '' I know," said Miss Lovering softly. 
 
 ^^The war is ended," repeated Stockdale, 
 ^^and I am alive, well, and happy; happier 
 [ 224 ] 
 
THE PEACE BELLS 
 
 than I thought people could be in this 
 world. And thousands of men, of our own 
 men, are lying dead three thousand miles 
 from home." 
 
 '' I am thinking of the mothers," said Miss 
 Lovering, ^^of the mothers all over this 
 country who are feeling tonight a joy and 
 peace which passeth understanding." 
 
 ^^But some of them — " said Stockdale 
 softly. 
 
 ^^ Some of them have lost everything that 
 made life worth while. Oh, I wish I could 
 help and comfort them," cried Miss Lov- 
 ering. " I pray with all my heart that God 
 will." 
 
 '' Our men died for these mothers, for the 
 children of the country, for you; and that 
 is right. But they died also for me, and 
 that somehow seems wrong." A cloud came 
 over Stockdale's face and rested there. 
 
 ^^ I know what you mean," said Miss Lov- 
 ering in a voice which was solemn and ten- 
 der. '' I understand that you will always 
 feel at times that your part was a small 
 one; that it might perhaps have been more. 
 I suppose that is bound to be. But if one 
 has done something, I do not think he need 
 torment himself too much." 
 
 [225] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 " My humble thanks to the men who have 
 fought and died for you; and for me, and 
 for our children. To them, all honor and 
 everlasting glory," said Stockdale. 
 
 "All glory and honor," repeated Miss 
 Lovering. " My humble thanks also. But 
 it will not help them or us or the world, 
 not to allow ourselves to be happy when 
 we can be happy; when in our hearts we 
 are so happy, will it? " 
 
 "No," said Stockdale, looking in her 
 eyes, " it would be ungrateful and wrong." 
 The shade passed from his face. "Please 
 sing," he begged. 
 
 And Katherine Lovering, leaning for- 
 ward, elbows on knees, her chin resting 
 in her hands, and her eyes on Stockdale's 
 face, sang, sweet and low: 
 
 " There 's a long, long trail a-winding, 
 Into the land of my dreams, 
 Where the nightingale is singing, 
 And a white moon beams. 
 There 's a long, long night of waiting, 
 Till my dreams all come true, 
 Till the day when I '11 be going down 
 That long, long trail with you." 
 
 At the last note she held out both hands. 
 "The night is over," she said. 
 [226] 
 
POSTSCRIPT 
 
POSTSCRIPT 
 
 An American Doughboy, just returned 
 /-\ from France, strolled happily about 
 ^ -^ the streets of his native city. Al- 
 though it was his intention to be very leis- 
 urely, he held himself erect, and it was im- 
 possible to prevent his steps from falling in 
 a sort of cadence. His clear eyes looked 
 out upon the familiar sights, confident, 
 serene and fearless. On his left sleeve were 
 three V-shaped gold stripes; on his right 
 sleeve, one. 
 
 In the course of his peregrinations he 
 happened to encounter The Man in the 
 Street, who advanced towards him with 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 ^^ Shake," said that individual. "Wel- 
 come Home ! My! but it is fine to have you 
 fellows back again! Every time I see one 
 of you with a gold stripe on his arm the 
 weight that has been tugging at my heart 
 for the last year and a half grows lighter. 
 I shall never quite lose it all ; I don't expect 
 or want to do that, but it's going fast." 
 [229] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 " Perhaps it isn't good to be back!" said 
 the Doughboy with a grin. 
 
 The Man in the Street took the Dough- 
 boy by the arm, and the two walked on 
 together. 
 
 " Now tell me," said the former, " if there 
 is anything I can do for you." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then 
 The Man in the Street answered his own 
 question. 
 
 ^^ No, of course there is n't. You are well, 
 strong, unafraid, and in your heart is the 
 happiness of having met the hardest test a 
 human being can face and of coming through 
 it one of the saviors of the world. The grat- 
 itude of every man, woman and child in 
 the country is yours, and their admiration, 
 reverence and love. As long as you live 
 you will know you are a hero, just as much 
 as Bayard, or Leonidas, or Shaw, or any 
 one of those fellows we read about in his- 
 tory. And here you are walking our streets 
 just like the rest of us." The Man in the 
 Street shook his head contemplatively from 
 side to side, and then went on. " No, there 
 is nothing I can do for you. But you can 
 do something for me." 
 
 ^^How so?" inquired the Doughboy. 
 
 [230] 
 
POSTSCRIPT 
 
 ^^You can tell me a little of what you 
 know," answered the other. ^^ You can help 
 me to understand all that has taken place, 
 and to formulate my ideas for the future. 
 Your eyes have seen and mine are blind. 
 I can only surmise hesitatingly and with 
 doubt. You know. Tell me." 
 
 ^^ Pshaw!" exclaimed the Doughboy, "I 
 haven't got anything to tell you." 
 
 " You know," repeated The Man in the 
 Street in steadfast tones. 
 
 The Doughboy looked in his companion's 
 eyes and saw he did indeed seek truth ; and 
 so he spoke from his heart. 
 
 '' First and last," he said, '' I 've thought 
 a lot about how wonderful it was that this 
 country could put forth the tremendous 
 effort it did ; everyone pulling together, you 
 know; nobody grouching; and all working 
 for a single purpose. Men, money, and the 
 most willing kind of work by all hands, 
 women and children included; all without 
 limit. Think what that accomplished! 
 And it was a grand thing in itself. If we 
 can do all that for war, why can't we do it 
 for better things? There are lots of better 
 things to work for than war, you know. 
 Suppose everyone tried as hard to prevent 
 
 [231] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 suffering and to give people a square deal 
 as they did to beat Germany, — and spent 
 only a small part of the money doing it that 
 the war cost? We could accomplish some- 
 thing if we'd only try. We have shown 
 that there is no job too big for us to tackle 
 if we get together on it. 
 
 ^^ It is a pity that people seem to be for- 
 getting this already. I have been surprised 
 at some of the things I 've heard since I got 
 back. Much of the unity, the good feeling, 
 the sense of comradeship in working for a 
 common cause, seems to be disappearing. It 
 has given place to bickerings, fault finding, 
 indiscriminate criticism and squabbling. 
 You tell me I have done a good job. Well, I 
 will admit that I have been happy about it, 
 and perhaps a little proud of it, but what 
 I am most proud about is what the whole 
 country has done. As far as I know history 
 I can't recall any other nation plunging 
 into the agonies of hell more unselfishly, 
 for a better purpose or with more effective 
 results. It seems to me that if America 
 ever in the whole course of its existence was 
 entitled to hold up its head and throw its 
 chest out a bit, it is right now. Bragging 
 is n't quite the thing, of course, but it is 
 
 [232] 
 
POSTSCRIPT 
 
 enough sight better than bellyaching. But 
 most of the talk I hear is about the mistakes 
 we've made; how we ought to have got 
 into the war sooner; how this or that part 
 of the war work fell down; how much we 
 owe to the French, to the English, to Italy, 
 Siam, China, to the planet Mars; to 
 everybody but ourselves. To be sure, we 
 landed more than two million soldiers in 
 France across three thousand miles of sub- 
 marine infested salt water; the British 
 Tommies and French poilus say that we 
 gave the punch which ended things; our 
 navy certainly turned the scale in keeping 
 the seas open; and incidentally we supplied 
 the world with food. At least that 's what 
 I thought, but maybe I dreamed it. Any- 
 how I don't hear those things mentioned 
 over here. There is lots of blame to be 
 passed around, but no credit. I suppose 
 perhaps it is reaction after strenuous effort, 
 but it is a pity to react into pettiness, and 
 meanness and spite. 
 
 " I said there are better things than war. 
 There can't be anything much worse. 
 There is n't a man who has been in the thick 
 of it who has a good word to say for war. 
 Getting killed is nothing. We've all got 
 
 [233] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 to die some day. It's the beastiality and 
 wickedness of it that hurts. When I got 
 into our first fight it came on me as a good 
 deal of a shock that I had been brought 
 way across the Atlantic Ocean just to kill 
 people, not in theory, you know, but in 
 plain every-day fact, and that it was now 
 up to me actually to do it. I would n't tell 
 you about some of the things I've seen. 
 The only thing I want to do is to forget 
 them. You ask any of our men who were 
 in the Argonne Forest, and see if they don't 
 say the same. Ask men who saw some of 
 the released English prisoners after the 
 armistice, and get them to tell you what 
 they think of the by-products of war. No, 
 I was glad to do my share, because there 
 was n't any other possible way; but now that 
 the idea of war as a fine thing in itself has 
 been pretty well knocked out of everyone's 
 head, even including the Germans, I guess, 
 men have got to find a means of settling the 
 ordinary quarrels of nations in some other 
 way than by spraying one another with 
 liquid fire or filling one another's lungs with 
 poison gas. It's too damn stupid; sheer 
 idiocy. 
 
 *^ The men who do the fighting ought to 
 
 [234] 
 
POSTSCRIPT 
 
 have some say about what they're fighting 
 for. It isn't fair for half a dozen men who 
 control the government of a country to set up 
 a holler every time a difference arises with 
 another country, that their nation's honor 
 is at stake and that in consequence there is 
 no way out but war. It would be fair 
 enough, perhaps, if each of those half dozen 
 men put on a private's uniform when hos- 
 tilities began; but that isn't the way it 
 works. Don't misunderstand me, now; I 'm 
 not talking about this war. There wasn't 
 any chance for a fair solution this time. 
 You can't reason with an insane criminal. 
 I am talking about disputes between na- 
 tions where neither one of them is crazy. 
 And I am thinking of the talk of certain 
 men at the Peace Conference who said the 
 other day that the honor of their nation 
 depended upon whether they got a certain 
 bit of territory or not. That was a lie. The 
 honor of a nation doesn't depend on any 
 such matter. There mustn't be any more 
 of that sort of thing. It 's what we fought 
 this war to prevent. If the war has n't done 
 that, it has n't done much. 
 
 ^^We can't stop wars merely by saying 
 we won't have them. We have got to put 
 
 [235] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 something else in their place. We must 
 fill up the void which war will leave if 
 we want to cut it out for good and all. 
 I don't know how it is to be done, but 
 people ought to try and find a way." 
 
 The Man in the Street had been listening 
 intently. 
 
 "Anything more?" he asked in earnest 
 tones, as the Doughboy ceased talking. 
 
 The Doughboy's eyes were looking 
 straight before him. 
 
 " You know I Ve seen lots of good friends 
 die; I have realized that life in this world 
 is a pretty temporary aflfair. We all know 
 that, of course, but I had never fully real- 
 ized it before ; in just the way I realize this 
 sidewalk we're on, I mean. Then, too, 
 I 've been in places myself where I did n't 
 have the slightest hope of getting out. 
 There didn't seem to be much help on 
 earth." 
 
 "Well?" said The Man in the Street. 
 
 "General Foch," answered the Dough- 
 boy, " used to spend a half hour or so alone 
 in church nearly every day, at a time when 
 he was reasonably busy carrying the weight 
 of the civilized world on his shoulders. 
 I 've tried it; it's a help." The Man in the 
 [236] 
 
POSTSCRIPT 
 
 Street nodded his head in agreement. " You 
 bet it is," he said emphatically. "Even 
 those of us over here have had moments 
 during the last two years when we felt the 
 need of something different from what we 
 could find in the newspapers or derive from 
 chit-chat." 
 
 " There 's only one thing more I am going 
 to say," went on the Doughboy, " and it is 
 this. When you consider the novelty of the 
 problems which had to be dealt with, the 
 distance from which we had to work, and 
 the scale on which things had to be done, 
 there's only one answer. The people of 
 this country have accomplished the impos- 
 sible. All the fault-finding and unreason- 
 ing criticism I spoke of will disappear soon. 
 It 's only scum risen to the surface and time 
 will spoon it off and throw it away in some 
 sewer where it belongs. But the thing I 
 want to emphasize is that the qualities 
 which made all this achievement possible 
 were right there in our people all the time. 
 War does n't make people over. The most 
 it can do is to bring out what is in them. 
 
 " It ought to help things in the future to 
 remember what Americans are capable of 
 doing. I hope we won't hear any more 
 
 [237] 
 
AT A DOLLAR A YEAR 
 
 talk of the U. S. A. being merely a geo- 
 graphical expression or any cheap glorifi- 
 cation of other nations at the expense of 
 our own. 
 
 " In the long years of peace for which we 
 all hope and pray, when there will be no 
 opportunity for a Spot-light display of the 
 willingness of our people to suffer, to sac- 
 rifice, and to work together for the common 
 good, I am not going to be troubled in my 
 mind by surface indications. I shall know 
 that deep down, the ability, and the faith, 
 and the will, are there always." 
 
 "This is mighty interesting," said The 
 Man in the Street. " I have been anxious 
 for a long time to know what you fellows 
 thought. The rest of us realize that all this 
 work you speak of, from that of the Presi- 
 dent down was merely auxiliary. The 
 actual job had to be done by the American 
 doughboy; and you did it. It is the opin- 
 ion of you men who have done the job 
 that is going to decide things in the 
 U. S. A. for a considerable period ; as long 
 as we live, I guess. It's only fair, and it's 
 right." 
 
 "The Doughboy laughed. "You never 
 can tell," he answered, still smiling. 
 
 [238] 
 
POSTSCRIPT 
 
 " At any rate what you Ve said has been 
 a help. It's what I wanted to know." 
 
 ^^If you really mean that," said the 
 Doughboy shyly, '^ there is something you 
 can do for me." 
 
 ''What is that?" asked the Man in the 
 Street eagerly. 
 
 ''Write it out so people can read it. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye and good luck!" said The 
 Man in the Street heartily. He walked 
 away in deep thought. '"Yes," he said to 
 himself, " I will try to do that." 
 
 [239] 
 
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