Mr. Dean Wakeham was always glad to have a decent excuse to run up to the Lakeside Farm. His duties at the Manor Mine were not so pressing that he could not on occasion take leave of absence, but to impose himself upon the Lakeside household as frequently as he desired made it necessary for him to utilise all possible excuses. In the letter which he held in his hand and which he had just read he fancied he had found a perfectly good excuse for a call. The letter was from his sister Rowena and was dated May 15th, 1914. It was upon his sister's letters that he depended for information regarding the family life generally and about herself in particular. His mother's letters were intimate and personal, reflecting, however, various phases of her ailments, her anxieties for each member of the family, but especially for her only son now so far from her in that wild and uncivilised country, but ever overflowing with tender affection. Dean always put down his mother's letters with a smile of gentle pity on his face. "Poor, dear Mater," he would say. "She is at rest about me only when she has me safely tucked up in my little bed." His father's letters kept him in touch with the office and, by an illuminating phrase or two, with the questions of Big Business. But when he had finished Rowena's letters he always felt as if he had been paying a visit to his home. Through her letters his sister had the rare gift of transmitting atmosphere. There were certain passages in his letter just received which he felt he should at the earliest moment share with the Lakeside Farm people, in other words, with Nora.

His car conveyed him with all speed to Lakeside Farm in good time for the evening meal. To the assembled family Dean proceeded to read passages which he considered of interest to them. "'Well, your Canadian has really settled down into his place in the office and into his own rooms. It was all we could do to hold him with us for a month, he is so fearfully independent. Are all Canadians like that? The Mater would have been glad to have had him remain a month longer. But would he stay? He has a way with him. He has struck up a terrific friendship with Hugo Raeder. You remember the Yale man who has come to Benedick, Frame and Company, father's financial people? Quite a presentable young man he is of the best Yale type, which is saying something. Larry and he have tied up to each other in quite a touching way. In the office, too, Larry has found his place. He captured old Scread the very first day by working out some calculations that had been allowed to accumulate, using some method of his own which quite paralysed the old chap. Oh, he has a way with him, that Canadian boy! Father, too, has fallen for him. To hear him talk you would imagine that he fully intended handing over ere long the business to Larry's care. The Mater has adopted him as well, but with reservations. Of course, what is troubling her is her dread of a Canadian invasion of her household, especially--'um um--" At this point Mr. Dean Wakeham read a portion of the letter to himself with slightly heightened colour. "'While as for Elfie, he has captured her, baggage and bones. The little monkey apparently lives only for him. While as for Larry, you would think that the office and the family were the merest side issues in comparison with the kid. All the same it is very beautiful to see them together. At times you would think they were the same age and both children. At other times she regards him with worshipful eyes and drinks in his words as if he were some superior being and she his equal in age and experience. She has taken possession of him, and never hesitates to carry him off to her own quarters, apparently to his delight. Oh, he has a way with him, that Canadian boy! The latest is that he has invited Elfie to stay a month with him in Alberta when he gets his first holiday. He has raved to her over Polly. Elfie, I believe, has accepted his invitation regardless of the wishes of either family. The poor little soul is really better, I believe, for his companionship. She is not so fretful and she actually takes her medicine without a fight and goes to bed at decent hours upon the merest hint of his Lordship's desire in the matter. In short, he has the family quite prostrate before him. I alone have been able to stand upright and maintain my own individuality.'"

"I am really awfully glad about the kid," said Dean. "After all she really has rather a hard time. She is so delicate and needs extra care and attention, and that, I am afraid, has spoiled her a bit."

"Why shouldn't the little girl spend a few weeks with us here this summer, Mr. Wakeham?" said Mrs. Gwynne. "Will you not say to your mother that we should take good care of her?"

"Oh, Mrs. Gwynne, that is awfully good of you, but I am a little afraid you would find her quite a handful. As I have said, she is a spoiled little monkey and not easy to do with. She would give you all a lot of trouble," added Dean, looking at Nora.

"Trouble? Not at all," said Nora. "She could do just as she likes here. We would give her Polly and let her roam. And on the farm she would find a number of things to interest her."

"It would be an awfully good thing for her, I know," said Dean, vainly trying to suppress the eagerness in his tone, "and if you are really sure that it would not be too much of a burden I might write."

"No burden at all, Mr. Wakeham," said Mrs. Gwynne. "If you will write and ask Mrs. Wakeham, and bring her with you when you return, we shall do what we can to make her visit a happy one, and indeed, it may do the dear child a great deal of good."

Thus it came about that the little city child, delicate, fretted, spoiled, was installed in the household at Lakeside Farm for a visit which lengthened out far beyond its original limits. The days spent upon the farm were full of bliss to her, the only drawback to the perfect happiness of the little girl being the separation from her beloved fidus Achates, with whom she maintained an epistolary activity extraordinarily intimate and vivid. Upon this correspondence the Wakeham family came chiefly to depend for enlightenment as to the young lady's activities and state of health, and it came to be recognised as part of Larry's duty throughout the summer to carry a weekly bulletin regarding Elfie's health and manners to the Lake Shore summer home, where the Wakehams sought relief from the prostrating heat of the great city. These week ends at the Lake Shore home were to Larry his sole and altogether delightful relief from the relentless drive of business that even throughout the hottest summer weather knew neither let nor pause.

It became custom that every Saturday forenoon Rowena's big car would call at the Rookery Building and carry off her father, if he chanced to be in town, and Larry to the Lake Shore home. An hour's swift run over the perfect macadam of the Lake Shore road that wound through park and boulevard, past splendid summer residences of Chicago financial magnates, through quiet little villages and by country farms, always with gleams of Michigan's blue-grey waters, and always with Michigan's exhilarating breezes in their faces, would bring them to the cool depths of Birchwood's shades and silences, where for a time the hustle and heat and roar of the big city would be as completely forgotten as if a thousand miles away. It was early on a breathless afternoon late in July when from pavement and wall the quivering air smote the face as if blown from an opened furnace that Rowena drove her car down La Salle Street and pulled up at the Rookery Building resolved to carry off with her as a special treat "her men" for an evening at Birchwood.

"Come along, Larry, it is too hot to live in town today," she said as she passed through the outer office where the young man had his desk. "I am just going in to get father, so don't keep me waiting."

"Miss Wakeham, why will you add to the burdens of the day by breezing thus in upon us and making us discontented with our lot. I cannot possibly accept your invitation this afternoon."

"What? Not to-day, with the thermometer at ninety-four? Nonsense!" said the young lady brusquely. "You look fit to drop."

"It is quite useless," said Larry with a sigh. "You see we have a man in all the way from Colorado to get plans of a mine which is in process of reconstruction. These plans will take hours to finish. The work is pressing, in short must be done to-day."

"Now, look here, young man. All work in this office is pressing but none so pressing that it cannot pause at my command."

"But this man is due to leave to-morrow."

"Oh, I decline to talk about it; it is much too hot. Just close up your desk," said the young lady, as she swept on to her father's office.

In a short time she returned, bearing that gentleman in triumph with her. "Not ready?" she said. "Really you are most exasperating, Larry."

"You may as well throw up your hands, Larry. You'd better knock off for the day," said Mr. Wakeham. "It is really too hot to do anything else than surrender."

"You see, it is like this, sir," said Larry. "It is that Colorado mine reconstruction business. Their manager, Dimock, is here. He must leave, he says, tomorrow morning. Mr. Scread thinks he should get these off as soon as possible. So it is necessary that I stick to it till we get it done."

"How long will it take?" said Mr. Wakeham.

"I expect to finish to-night some time. I have already had a couple of hours with Dimock to-day. He has left me the data."

"Well, I am very sorry, indeed," said Mr. Wakeham. "It is a great pity you cannot come with us, and you look rather fagged. Dimock could not delay, eh?"

"He says he has an appointment at Kansas City which he must keep."

"Oh, it is perfect rubbish," exclaimed Rowena impatiently, "and we have a party on to-night. Your friend, Mr. Hugh Raeder, is to be out, and Professor Schaefer and a friend of his, and some perfectly charming girls."

"But why tell me these things now, Miss Wakeham," said Larry, "when you know it is impossible for me to come?"

"You won't come?"

"I can't come."

"Come along then, father," she said, and with a stiff little bow she left Larry at his desk.

Before the car moved off Larry came hurrying out.

"Here is Elfie's letter," he said. "Perhaps Mrs. Wakeham would like to see it." Miss Wakeham was busy at the wheel and gave no sign of having heard or seen. So her father reached over and took the letter from him.

"Do you know," said Larry gravely, "I do not think it is quite so hot as it was. I almost fancy I feel a chill."

"A chill?" said Mr. Wakeham anxiously. "What do you mean?"

Miss Wakeham bit her lip, broke into a smile and then into a laugh. "Oh, he's a clever thing, he is," she said. "I hope you may have a real good roast this afternoon."

"I hope you will call next Saturday," said Larry earnestly. "It is sure to be hot."

"You don't deserve it or anything else that is good."

"Except your pity. Think what I am missing."

"Get in out of the heat," she cried as the car slipped away.

For some blocks Miss Wakeham was busy getting her car through the crush of the traffic, but as she swung into the Park Road she remarked, "That young man takes himself too seriously. You would think the business belonged to him."

"I wish to God I had more men in my office," said her father, "who thought the same thing. Do you know, young lady, why it is that so many greyheads are holding clerk's jobs? Because clerks do not feel that the business is their own. The careless among them are working for five o'clock, and the keen among them are out for number one. Do you know if that boy keeps on thinking that the business is his he will own a big slice of it or something better before he quits. I confess I was greatly pleased that you failed to move him."

"All the same, he is awfully stubborn," said his daughter.

"You can't bully him as you do your old dad, eh?"

"I had counted on him for our dinner party to-night. I particularly want to have him meet Professor Schaefer, and now we will have a girl too many. It just throws things out."

They rolled on in silence for some time through the park when suddenly her father said, "He may be finished by six o'clock, and Michael could run in for him."

At six o'clock Miss Wakeham called Larry on the 'phone. "Are you still at it?" she enquired. "And when will you be finished?"

"An hour, I think, will see me through," he replied.

"Then," said Miss Wakeham, "a little before seven o'clock the car will be waiting at your office door."

"Hooray!" cried Larry. "You are an angel. I will be through."

At a quarter of seven Larry was standing on the pavement, which was still radiating heat, and so absorbed in watching for the Wakehams' big car that he failed to notice a little Mercer approaching till it drew up at his side.

"What, you, Miss Rowena?" he cried. "Your own self? How very lovely of you, and through all this heat!"

"Me," replied the girl, "only me. I thought it might still be hot and a little cool breeze would be acceptable. But jump in."

"Cool breeze, I should say so!" exclaimed Larry. "A lovely, cool, sweet spring breeze over crocuses and violets! But, I say, I must go to my room for my clothes."

"No evening clothes to-night," exclaimed Rowena.

"Ah, but I have a new, lovely, cool suit that I have been hoping to display at Birchwood. These old things would hardly do at your dinner table."

"We'll go around for it. Do get in. Do you know, I left my party to come for you, partly because I was rather nasty this afternoon?"

"You were indeed," said Larry. "You almost broke my heart, but this wipes all out; my heart is singing again. That awfully jolly letter of Elfie's this week made me quite homesick for the open and for the breezes of the Alberta foothills."

"Tell me what she said," said Rowena, not because she wanted so much to hear Elfie's news but because she loved to hear him talk, and upon no subject could Larry wax so eloquent as upon the foothill country of Alberta. Long after they had secured Larry's new suit and gone on their way through park and boulevard, Larry continued to expatiate upon the glories of Alberta hills and valleys, upon its cool breezes, its flowing rivers and limpid lakes, and always the western rampart of the eternal snow-clad peaks.

"And how is the mine doing?" inquired Rowena, for Larry had fallen silent.

"The mine? Oh, there's trouble there, I am afraid. Switzer--you have heard of Switzer?"

"Oh, yes, I know all about him and his tragic disappointment. He's the manager, isn't he?"

"The manager? No, he's the secretary, but in this case it means the same thing, for he runs the mine. Well, Switzer wants to sell his stock. He and his father hold about twenty-five thousand dollars between them. He means to resign. And to make matters worse, the manager left last week. They are both pulling out, and it makes it all the worse, for they had just gone in for rather important extensions. I am anxious a bit. You see they are rather hard up for money, and father raised all he could on his ranch and on his mining stock."

"How much is involved?" inquired Rowena.

"Oh, not so much money as you people count it, but for us it is all we have. He raised some fifty thousand dollars. While the mine goes on and pays it is safe enough, but if the mine quits then it is all up with us. There is no reason for anxiety at present as far as the mine is concerned, however. It is doing splendidly and promises better every day. But Switzer's going will embarrass them terribly. He was a perfect marvel for work and he could handle the miners as no one else could. Most of them, you know, are his own people."

"I see you are worrying," said Rowena, glancing at his face, which she thought unusually pale.

"Not a bit. At least, not very much. Jack is a levelheaded chap-- Jack Romayne, I mean--my brother-in-law. By the way, I had a wire to say that young Jack had safely arrived."

"Young Jack? Oh, I understand. Then you are Uncle Larry."

"I am. How ancient I feel! And what a lot of responsibility it lays upon me!"

"I hope your sister is quite well."

"Everything fine, so I am informed. But what was I saying? Oh, yes, Jack is a level-headed chap and his brother-in-law, Waring- Gaunt, who is treasurer of the company, is very solid. So I think there's no doubt but that they will be able to make all necessary arrangements."

"Well, don't worry to-night," said Rowena. "I want you to have a good time. I am particularly anxious that you should meet and like Professor Schaefer."

"A German, eh?" said Larry.

"Yes--that is, a German-American. He is a metallurgist, quite wonderful, I believe. He does a lot of work for father, and you will doubtless have a good deal to do with him yourself. And he spoke so highly of Canada and of Canadians that I felt sure you would be glad to meet him. He is really a very charming man, musical and all that, but chiefly he is a man of high intelligence and quite at the top of his profession. He asked to bring a friend of his with him, a Mr. Meyer, whom I do not know at all; but he is sure to be interesting if he is a friend of Professor Schaefer's. We have some nice girls, too, so we hope to have an interesting evening."

The company was sufficiently varied to forbid monotony, and sufficiently intellectual to be stimulating, and there was always the background of Big Business. Larry was conscious that he was moving amid large ideas and far-reaching interests, and that though he himself was a small element, he was playing a part not altogether insignificant, with a promise of bigger things in the future. Professor Schaefer became easily the centre of interest in the party. He turned out to be a man of the world. He knew great cities and great men. He was a connoisseur in art and something more than an amateur in music. His piano playing, indeed, was far beyond that of the amateur. But above everything he was a man of his work. He knew metals and their qualities as perhaps few men in America, and he was enthusiastic in his devotion to his profession. After dinner, with apologies to the ladies, he discoursed from full and accurate knowledge of the problems to be met within his daily work and their solutions. He was frequently highly technical, but to everything he touched he lent a charm that captivated his audience. To Larry he was especially gracious. He was interested in Canada. He apparently had a minute knowledge of its mineral history, its great deposits in metals, in coal, and oil, which he declared to be among the richest in the world. The mining operations, however, carried out in Canada, he dismissed as being unworthy of consideration. He deplored the lack of scientific knowledge and the absence of organisation.

"We should do that better in our country. Ah, if only our Government would take hold of these deposits," he exclaimed, "the whole world should hear of them." The nickel mining industry alone in the Sudbury district he considered worthy of respect. Here he became enthusiastic. "If only my country had such a magnificent bit of ore!" he cried. "But such bungling, such childish trifling with one of the greatest, if not the very greatest, mining industries in the world! To think that the Government of Canada actually allows the refining of that ore to be done outside of its own country! Folly, folly, criminal folly! But it is all the same in this country, too. The mining work in America is unscientific, slovenly, unorganised, wasteful. I am sorry to say," he continued, turning suddenly upon Larry, "in your western coal fields you waste more in the smoke of your coke ovens than you make out of your coal mines. Ah, if only those wonderful, wonderful coal fields were under the organised and scientific direction of my country! Then you would see--ah, what would you not see!"

"Your country?" said Hugo Raeder, smiling. "I understood you were an American, Professor Schaefer."

"An American? Surely! I have been eighteen years in this country."

"You are a citizen, I presume?" said Mr. Wakeham.

"A citizen? Yes. I neglected that matter till recently; but I love my Fatherland."

"Speaking of citizenship, I have always wanted to know about the Delbruck Law, Professor Schaefer, in regard to citizenship," said Larry.

The professor hesitated, "The Delbruck Law?"

"Yes," said Larry. "How does it affect, for instance, your American citizenship?"

"Not at all, I should say. Not in the very least," replied Professor Schaefer curtly and as if dismissing the subject.

"I am not so sure of that, Professor Schaefer," said Hugo Raeder. "I was in Germany when that law was passed. It aroused a great deal of interest. I have not looked into it myself, but on the face of it I should say it possesses certain rather objectionable features."

"Not at all, not at all, I assure you," exclaimed Professor Schaefer. "It is simply a concession to the intense, but very natural affection for the Fatherland in every German heart, while at the same time it facilitates citizenship in a foreign country. For instance, there are millions of Germans living in America who like myself shrank from taking the oath which breaks the bond with the Fatherland. We love America, we are Americans, we live in America, we work in America; but naturally our hearts turn to Germany, and we cannot forget our childhood's home. That is good, that is worthy, that is noble--hence the Delbruck Law."

"But what does it provide exactly?" enquired Mr. Wakeham. "I confess I never heard of it."

"It permits a German to become an American citizen, and at the same time allows him to retain his connection, his heart connection, with the Fatherland. It is a beautiful law."

"A beautiful law," echoed his friend, Mr. Meyer.

"Just what is the connection?" insisted Hugo Raeder.

"Dear friend, let me explain to you. It permits him to retain his place, his relations with his own old country people. You can surely see the advantage of that. For instance: When I return to Germany I find myself in full possession of all my accustomed privileges. I am no stranger. Ah, it is beautiful! And you see further how it establishes a new bond between the two countries. Every German-American will become a bond of unity between these two great nations, the two great coming nations of the world."

"Beautiful, beautiful, glorious!" echoed Meyer.

"But I do not understand," said Larry. "Are you still a citizen of Germany?"

"I am an American citizen, and proud of it," exclaimed Professor Schaefer, dramatically.

"Ach, so, geviss," said Meyer. "Sure! an American citizen!"

"But you are also a citizen of Germany?" enquired Hugo Raeder.

"If I return to Germany I resume the rights of my German citizenship, of course."

"Beautiful, beautiful!" exclaimed Meyer.

"Look here, Schaefer. Be frank about this. Which are you to-day, a citizen of Germany or of America?"

"Both, I tell you," exclaimed Schaefer proudly. "That is the beauty of the arrangement."

"Ah, a beautiful arrangement!" said Meyer.

"What? You are a citizen of another country while you claim American citizenship?" said Raeder. "You can no more be a citizen of two countries at the same time than the husband of two wives at the same time."

"Well, why not?" laughed Schaefer. "An American wife for America, and a German wife for Germany. You will excuse me," he added, bowing toward Mrs. Wakeham.

"Don't be disgusting," said Hugo Raeder. "Apart from the legal difficulty the chief difficulty about that scheme would be that whatever the German wife might have to say to such an arrangement, no American wife would tolerate it for an instant."

"I was merely joking, of course," said Schaefer.

"But, Professor Schaefer, suppose war should come between Germany and America," said Larry.

"War between Germany and America--the thing is preposterous nonsense, not to be considered among the possibilities!"

"But as a mere hypothesis for the sake of argument, what would your position be?" persisted Larry.

Professor Schaefer was visibly annoyed. "I say the hypothesis is nonsense and unthinkable," he cried.

"Come on, Schaefer, you can't escape it like that, you know," said Hugo Raeder. "By that law of yours, where would your allegiance be should war arise? I am asking what actually would be your standing. Would you be a German citizen or an American citizen?"

"The possibility does not exist," said Professor Schaefer.

"Quite impossible," exclaimed Meyer.

"Well, what of other countries then?" said Hugo, pursuing the subject with a wicked delight. His sturdy Americanism resented this bigamous citizenship. "What of France or Britain?"

"Ah," said Professor Schaefer with a sharpening of his tone. "That is quite easy."

"You would be a German, eh?" said Raeder.

"You ask me," exclaimed Professor Schaefer, "you ask me as between Germany and France, or between Germany and Britain? I reply," he exclaimed with a dramatic flourish of his hand, "I am a worshipper of the life-giving sun, not of the dead moon; I follow the dawn, not the dying day."

But this was too much for Larry. "Without discussing which is the sun and which is the moon, about which we might naturally differ, Professor Schaefer, I want to be quite clear upon one point. Do I understand you to say that if you were, say a naturalised citizen of Canada, having sworn allegiance to our Government, enjoying the full rights and privileges of our citizenship, you at the same time would be free to consider yourself a citizen of Germany, and in case of war with Britain, you would feel in duty bound to support Germany? And is it that which the Delbruck Law is deliberately drawn, to permit you to do?"

"Well put, Larry!" exclaimed Hugo Raeder, to whom the German's attitude was detestable.

Professor Schaefer's lips curled in an unpleasant smile. "Canada, Canadian citizenship! My dear young man, pardon! Allow me to ask you a question. If Britain were at war with Germany, do you think it at all likely that Canada would allow herself to become involved in a European war? Canada is a proud, young, virile nation. Would she be likely to link her fortunes with those of a decadent power? Excuse me a moment," checking Larry's impetuous reply with his hand. "Believe me, we know something about these things. We make it our business to know. You acknowledge that we know something about your mines; let me assure you that there is nothing about your country that we do not know. Nothing. Nothing. We know the feeling in Canada. Where would Canada be in such a war? Not with Germany, I would not say that. But would she stand with England?"

Larry sprang to his feet. "Where would Canada be? Let me tell you, Professor Schaefer," shaking his finger in the professor's face. "To her last man and her last dollar Canada would be with the Empire."

"Hear, hear!" shouted Hugo Raeder.

The professor looked incredulous. "And yet," he said with a sneer, "one-half of your people voted for Reciprocity with the United States."

"Reciprocity! And yet you say you know Canada," exclaimed Larry in a tone of disgust. "Do you know, sir, what defeated Reciprocity with this country? Not hostility to the United States; there is nothing but the kindliest feeling among Canadians for Americans. But I will tell you what defeated Reciprocity. It was what we might call the ultra loyal spirit of the Canadian people toward the Empire. The Canadians were Empire mad. The bare suggestion of the possibility of any peril to the Empire bond made them throw out Sir Wilfrid Laurier and the Liberal Party. That, of course, with other subordinate causes."

"I fancy our Mr. Taft helped a bit," said Hugo Raeder.

"Undoubtedly Mr. Taft's unfortunate remarks were worked to the limit by the Conservative Party. But all I say is that any suggestion, I will not say of disloyalty, but even of indifference, to the Empire of Canada is simply nonsense."

At this point a servant brought in a telegram and handed it to Mr. Wakeham. "Excuse me, my dear," he said to his wife, opened the wire, read it, and passed it to Hugo Raeder. "From your chief, Hugo."

"Much in that, do you think, sir?" inquired Hugo, passing the telegram back to him.

"Oh, a little flurry in the market possibly," said Mr. Wakeham. "What do you think about that, Schaefer?" Mr. Wakeham continued, handing him the wire.

Professor Schaefer glanced at the telegram. "My God!" he exclaimed, springing to his feet. "It is come, it is come at last!" He spoke hurriedly in German to his friend, Meyer, and handed him the telegram.

Meyer read it. "God in heaven!" he cried. "It is here!" In intense excitement he poured forth a torrent of interrogations in German, receiving animated replies from Professor Schaefer. Then grasping the professor's hand in both of his, he shook it with wild enthusiasm.

"At last!" he cried. "At last! Thank God, our day has come!"

Completely ignoring the rest of the company, the two Germans carried on a rapid and passionate conversation in their own tongue with excited gesticulations, which the professor concluded by turning to his hostess and saying, "Mrs. Wakeham, you will excuse us. Mr. Wakeham, you can send us to town at once?"

By this time the whole company were upon their feet gazing with amazement upon the two excited Germans.

"But what is it?" cried Mrs. Wakeham. "What has happened? Is there anything wrong? What is it, Professor Schaefer? What is your wire about, Garrison?"

"Oh, nothing at all, my dear, to get excited about. My financial agent wires me that the Press will announce to-morrow that Austria has presented an ultimatum to Servia demanding an answer within forty-eight hours."

"Oh, is that all," she said in a tone of vast relief. "What a start you all gave me. An ultimatum to Servia? What is it all about?"

"Why, you remember, my dear, the murder of the Archduke Ferdinand about three weeks ago?"

"Oh, yes, I remember. I had quite forgotten it. Poor thing, how terrible it was! Didn't they get the murderer? It seems to me they caught him."

"You will excuse us, Mrs. Wakeham," said Professor Schaefer, approaching her. "We deeply regret leaving this pleasant party and your hospitable home, but it is imperative that we go."

"But, my dear Professor Schaefer, to-night?" exclaimed Mrs. Wakeham.

"Why, Schaefer, what's the rush? Are you caught in the market?" said Wakeham with a little laugh. "You cannot do anything to-night at any rate, you know. We will have you in early to-morrow morning."

"No, no, to-night, now, immediately!" shouted Meyer in uncontrollable excitement.

"But why all the excitement, Schaefer?" said Hugo Raeder, smiling at him. "Austria has presented an ultimatum to Servia--what about it?"

"What about it? Oh, you Americans; you are so provincial. Did you read the ultimatum? Do you know what it means? It means war!"

"War!" cried Meyer. "War at last! Thank God! Tonight must we in New York become."

Shaking hands hurriedly with Mrs. Wakeham, and with a curt bow to the rest of the company, Meyer hurriedly left the room, followed by Professor Schaefer and Mr. Wakeham.

"Aren't they funny!" said Rowena. "They get so excited about nothing."

"Well, it is hardly nothing," said Hugo Raeder. "Any European war is full of all sorts of possibilities. You cannot throw matches about in a powder magazine without some degree of danger."

"May I read the ultimatum?" said Larry to Mrs. Wakeham, who held the telegram in her hand.

"Pretty stiff ultimatum," said Hugo Raeder. "Read it out, Larry."

"Servia will have to eat dirt," said Larry when he had finished. "Listen to this: She must 'accept the collaboration in Servia of representatives of the Austro-Hungarian Government for the consideration of the subversive movements directed against the Territorial integrity of the Monarchy.' 'Accept collaboration' of the representatives of the Austro-hungarian Government in this purely internal business, mind you. And listen to this: 'Delegates of the Austro-Hungarian Government will take part in the investigation relating thereto.' Austrian lawyers and probably judges investigating Servian subjects in Servia? Why, the thing is impossible."

"It is quite evident," said Hugo Raeder, "that Austria means war."

"Poor little Servia, she will soon be eaten up," said Rowena. "She must be bankrupt from her last war."

"But why all this excitement on the part of our German friends?" inquired Mrs. Wakeham. "What has Germany to do with Austria and Servia?"

At this point Professor Schaefer and his friend re-entered the room ready for their departure.

"I was just inquiring," said Mrs. Wakeham, "how this ultimatum of Austria's to Servia can affect Germany particularly."

"Affect Germany?" cried Professor Schaefer.

"Yes," said Hugo Raeder, "what has Germany to do with the scrap unless she wants to butt in?"

"Ha! ha! My dear man, have you read no history of the last twenty years? But you Americans know nothing about history, nothing about anything except your own big, overgrown country."

"I thought you were an American citizen, Schaefer?" inquired Hugo.

"An American," exclaimed Schaefer, "an American, ah, yes, certainly; but in Europe and in European politics, a German, always a German."

"But why should Germany butt in?" continued Hugo.

"Butt in, Germany butt in? Things cannot be settled in Europe without Germany. Besides, there is Russia longing for the opportunity to attack."

"To attack Germany?"

"To attack Austria first, Germany's ally and friend, and then Germany. The trouble is you Americans do not live in the world. You are living on your own continent here removed from the big world, ignorant of all world movements, the most provincial people in all the world. Else you would not ask me such foolish questions. This ultimatum means war. First, Austria against Servia; Russia will help Servia; France will help Russia; Germany will help Austria. There you have the beginning of a great European war. How far this conflagration will spread, only God knows."

The car being announced, the Germans made a hurried exit, in their overpowering excitement omitting the courtesy of farewells to household and guests.

"They seem to be terribly excited, those Germans," said Miss Rowena.

"They are," said Hugo; "I am glad I am not a German. To a German war is so much the biggest thing in life."

"It is really too bad," said Mrs. Wakeham; "we shall not have the pleasure of Professor Schaefer's music. He plays quite exquisitely. You would all have greatly enjoyed it. Rowena, you might play something. Well, for my part," continued Mrs. Wakeham, settling herself placidly in her comfortable chair, "I am glad I am an American. Those European countries, it seems to me, are always in some trouble or other."

"I am glad I am a Canadian," said Larry. "We are much too busy to think of anything so foolish and useless as war."