"Oh, my God," he had said in his heart, as all clear-sighted Americans had been saying, "has commercialism eaten into our very vitals?
Has the good red blood of the early pioneers turned to water?
Are we without the nerve any longer to read the writing on the wall ?" And the only times that his national pride had been able to raise its head beneath the weight of shame and foreboding were those when he passed the windows of Red Cross Depots and caught sight of a roomful of good and noble women feverishly at work on bandages; when he read of the keen and splendid training voluntarily undergone by the far-sighted men who were making Plattsburg the nucleus of an officers' training corps, when he was told how many of his young and red-blooded fellow-countrymen had taken up arms with the Canadian contingents or had slipped over to France as ambulance men.

What would he not have given to be young again! He heaved a great sigh and turned back to the precious little woman who had placed her life into his hands for love.

The hoarse alarming voices receded into the distance, leaving their curious echo behind.
"What were we talking about ?" he asked.

"Oh, ah, yes.

The house.