Gass 7 u() 6- A'-/ IN THE VANGUARD THE BEST NEW BOOKS AT THE LEAST PRICES Each volume in the Macmillan Libraries sells for 50 cents, never more, wherever books are sold. THE MACMILLAN STANDARD LIBRARY Addams — The Spirit of Youth and the City Streets. Addams — A New Conscience and an Ancient EviL Bailey — The Country Life Movement in the United States. Bailey — The Practical Garden Book. Campbell — The New Theology. Clark — The Care of a House, CoNYNGTON — How to Help: A Manual of Practical Charity. Coolidge — The United States as a World Power. Croly — The Promise of American Life. Devine — Misery and Its Causes. Earle — Home Life in Colonial Days. Ely — Evolution of Industrial Society. Ely — Monopolies and Trusts. French — How to Grow Vegetables. Goodyear — Renaissance and Modern Art. Hapgood — Lincoln, Abraham, The Man of the People. Haultain — The Mystery of Golf. Hearn — Japan: An Attempt at Interpretation. Hillis — The Quest of Happiness. Hill QUIT — Socialism in Theory and Practice. Hodges — Everyman's Religion. HoRNE — David Livingstone. Hunter — Poverty. Hunter — Socialists at Work. Jefferson — The Building of the Church. King — The Ethics of Jesus. King — The Laws of Friendship. King — Rational Living. London — The War of the Classes. London — Revolution and Other Essays. Lyon — How to Keep Bees for Profit. McLennan — A Manual of Practical Farming. Mabie — William Shakespeare: Poet, Dramatist, and Man. Mahaffy — Rambles and Studies in Greece. Mathews — The Church and the Changing Order. Mathews — The Gospel and the Modern Man. Nearing — Wages in the United States. Patten — The Social Basis of Religion. Peabody — The Approach to the Social Question. Pierce — The Tariff and the Trusts. Rauschenbusch — Christianity and the Social Crisis. Riis — The Making of an American Citizen. Riis — Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen. Ryan — A Living Wage : Its Ethical and Economic Aspects. Scott — Increasing Human Efficiency in Business. St. Maur — A Self-supporting Home. St. Maur — The Earth's Bounty. Sherman — What is Shakespeare? Sidgwick — Home Life in Germany. Simons — Social Forces in American History. Smith — The Spirit of the American Government. THE BEST NEW BOOKS AT THE LEAST PRICES Each volume in the Macmillan Libraries sells for 50 cents* never more, wherever books are sold. Spargo — Socialism. Tarbell — History of Greek Art. Trask — In the Vanguard. Valentine — How to Keep Hens for Profit. Van Dyke — The Gospel for a World of Sin. Van Dyke — The Spirit of America. Veblen — The Theory of the Leisure Class. Vedder — Socialism and the Ethics of Jesus. Walling — Socialism as it Is. Wells — New Worlds for Old. Weyl — The New Democracy. White — The Old Order Changeth. THE MACMILLAN FICTION LIBRARY Allen — A Kentucky Cardinal. Allen — The Reign of Law. Atherton — Patience Sparhawk. Child — Jim Hands. Crawford — The Heart of Rome. Crawford — Fair Margaret: A Portrait. Davis — A Friend of Caesar. Drummond — The Justice of the King. Elizabeth and Her German Garden, Gale — Loves of Pelleas and Etarre. Herrick — The Common Lot. London — Adventure. London — Burning Daylight. LoTi — Disenchanted. Lucas — Mr. Ingleside. Mason — The Four Feathers. NoRRis — Mother. OxENHAM — The Long Road. Pryor — The Colonel's Story. Remington — Ermine of the Yellowstone. Roberts — Kings in Exile. Robins — The Convert. Robins — A Dark Lantern. Scott — Waverley Novels (25 vols.). Ward — The History of David Grieve. THE MACMILLAN JUVENILE LIBRARY Altsheler — The Horsemen of the Plains. Bacon — While Caroline Was Growing. Carroll — Alice, and Through the Looking Glass. Dix — A Little Captive Lad. Greene — Pickett's Gap. Lucas — Slowcoach. Major — Bears of Blue River. Major — Uncle Tom Andy Bill. Mabie — Book of Christmas. Nesbit — The Railway Children. Wright — Dream Fox Story Book. Wright — Aunt Jimmy's Will. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO IN THE VANGUARD BY KATRINA TRASK Nm fork THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 19 14 AU rights reserved ^c^-b^ ?1 ftf .^^ Copyright, 1913, By the MACMILLAN COMPANY Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1013. Reprinted June, December, 1913; March, 1914. ^Luh^EKi CIViSIOM il'N 25 »»? ACT I SCENE I IN THE VANGUARD ACT I SCENE I May Day The Village Green Many large trees stand upon the Common, Flowering shrubs grow in profusion upon the turf. To the East, pic- turesque houses are seen through the trees; to the West, the distant hills. Here, the Common is more open; there are no trees. In the open space, several girls are gaily dancing; their light draperies are blown by the wind. Dancing, they wind in and out of a long garland woven of flowers, and as they dance, they sing. The Girls Singing. Merrily dawns the month of May! Primroses pink and white, The golden sun is glad to-day: The stars will laugh to-night. Weave, weave the garland gay, To greet the month of May! 4 IN THE VANGUARD [act i happy are the song-birds now, May's plumage on their breasts! Secure within the blossoming bough They build their hidden nests. Weave, weave the garland gay, To greet the month of May! First Girl Eagerly J stopping the dance. There comes Elsa! Second Girl Disdainfully. Bah! I hate her proud ways. First Girl Indignantly, Proud? — Elsa? — How absurd ! Elsa is adorable ! Second Girl Not proud? Look at the way she carries her head ! She looks as though she thought we were the dust under her feet. First Girl She can't help the way her head is set on her shoulders ! She walks like that in her bath-room. The Girls laugh. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 5 She does! I was there the other day — She was washing her hands — and she looked like one of the statues in the new Museum that Mr. Greart gave to the town; that one where the goddess is standing before the altar; Elsa looked as though she were performing a religious rite. Third Girl What a goose you are, Molly! Elsa is awfully nice, but she isn't much like a goddess; she wears too good clothes. Second Girl She is too top-lofty for me; I don't like her! Minnie Sarcastically, Poor Elsa! How can she possibly bear it! One of the Younger Girls Impetuously, I love her! What do you think, Minnie? Do you think she looks like a goddess? Minnie I think she is herself — that makes her a goddess! 6 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Third Girl You always talk such conundrums, Minnie. How could she be anyone but herself? Minnie Easily — we none of us are. Third Girl Are what? Minnie Ourselves. The Rector's Daughter Who inherits her Father^ s lack of humour. Who are we then? Minnie I am my Father in second edition, Lizzie is her Mother in abstract; you are — The Rector's Daughter Well, what am I? Minnie O never mind! ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 7 First Girl Here comes Elsa! Between the trees ^ at the East end of the Common, a young girl enters; her swift step gives the suggestion of winged feet. She hears herself proudly, and yet with a gracious directness and simplicity; she is tall, lithe, beautiful; she is dressed in unrelieved white; she carries an open hook; this is Eisa, The Girls Come, Elsa! Come, join our May-dance! The Girls hold out the garland to Elsa and begin to sing again. The GniLS Singing, "Weave, weave the garland gay" — Elsa O stop dancing — Girls. Sit down — listen — I have something to read to you! I have found the most delicious thing! It is a picture of what we all feel these days — these stirring days, when war is in the air. Elsa sits upon the turf. The girls throw down the garland and seal themselves around her. The Rector's Daughter Elsa, did you know Jack is going to the war? 8 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Elsa With a nod of approbation. Certainly — he is a soldier. Second Girl Looking at Elsa keenly. How about Philip? Elsa Evasively. Philip is not a soldier. "^ The Rector's Daughter Philip is a lawyer. Father told me yesterday that Philip has been offered a partnership with Stickley and Stowett. Father says that's wonder- ful for so young a man. Did you know it, Elsa? Elsa Philip told me. {Drawing herself up, the colour rising in her cheeks). I wish I were a man — nothing should keep me from this glorious war — this fight for the right. Second Girl Aside. Affectation. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 9 Elsa Shall I read? The Girls Yes — Yes — Read! Elba This is an ancient chronicle; — but it is as modern as we are! What joy to find in a book the things one has always said in one's own heart! Minnie Isn't it? I had an idea, for a long while, which I cherished in secret and wouldn't tell anyone — I was afraid they would think me raving mad or an imbecile — one day I was reading a new scientific book of Father's, and there I found my secret idea set forth at great length as the newest discovery in science. The Rector's Daughter What was it? Minnie I wouldn't tell you for a tiara. lo IN THE VANGUARD [act i The Rector's Daughter Why not? Minnie You wouldn't think it proper. The Rector's Daughter Oh--! First Girl Go on, Elsa! Minnie, don't interrupt again. You always interrupt. Minnie I always have something to say, that's the reason. Two young men, Philip and Jack, appear at the left — the trees hide them — they are unseen by the girls, who are absorbed in Elsa and her book. Jack is a dapper, handsome little man with merry eyes and a pert mous- tache. Philip is tall and sinewy, as clean-shaven as a monk. His eyes are the eyes of a dreamer but his chin and mouth are the chin and mouth of a man of action and of power. He is not handsome — at least that is the first impression — but after one has decided that he is not handsome, one turns to look at him again. Few of the girls have decided the question, but the per- petual discussion of it between them holds evidence in Philip's favour. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD n Elsa Turning over the leaves of her booh. I won't read the story — only this paragraph which I must share with you. Reading with a responsive thrill in her voice. "The Maiden was very beauteous to behold; she was the daughter of an ancient Sage, greatly honoured of all men. The Sage was a builder of books, of vast learning and of great knowledge. The renown of his wisdom had spread throughout the kingdoms of the world. "Now the maiden cared not overmuch for the musty books and dusty parchments of her Father; she loved great and doughty deeds, perilous ad- ventures, the clash of arms, and knights victorious, the crowned conqueror in the lists, the triumphant in battle. "And lo! The Maiden sat in the ancient Hall of the moated castle, and suitors came to her — according to the choice and will of her Father. One came, a learned scholar, a master of languages long dead. One came, a tribune of the people, much versed in state-craft. One came who knew the science of the stars and the secrets of the earth. "From beneath lowered lashes the Maiden looked on each — she looked and turned away. 12 IN THE VANGUARD [act i "Thou art difficult to please, my Daughter,' her Father said with grave displeasure. "The Maiden answered with scornful lips and proud disdain, 'Father, I will marry none but a Hero/ "Straightway, she clasped her mantle aroimd her, drew her veil across her face, and went out from the Hall into the forest. Deep in the heart of the forest, she threw back her veil, unclasped her mantle, and stretching wide her arms looked up to the sky, which glimpsed between the branches of the trees; she laughed softly and said over and over, as though it were a song she loved to sing, "'I will marry none but a Hero.' She waited as for a reply, and then, added, still laughing low, 'Books are dreary and stale; wisdom is for the aged and the weary; but a free-born maiden, with warm red blood throbbing through her veins, will only lay down the shield of her heart to a Man of Valour — a Doer of Deeds — a Hero.' " Elsa pauses. The Girls Clapping their hands. Good — Good! Splendid! True! Philip and Jack step out from behind the trees; the girls start with surprise, and rise. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 13 Jack My eyes, what a hoity-toity young lady! I say, Philip, she was a suffragette. Those men were well out of it with that minx ! Philip She wasn't a minx. Jack, she was a sphinx. Elba QuicUy, What was her riddle? Philip Her own heart. Jack I say, Elsa — heroes don't grow on bushes. Elsa Scornfully, Alas! That is too true — they are rare enough to be museum specimens. Philip Speaking with mock solemnity. Your analysis proves you have not studied the subject. Mademoiselle. 14 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Elsa With more heat than the fun warrants. Indeed I have studied it — and searched for it — them, I mean — and I do not find it — them, I mean — except in books. Philip looks at her a moment and then bows low, Philip In an inimitable voice. O Maiden, more charming than wise, 'Tis not he who vahantly dies Who alone is the Hero! Ah me! The bravest of heroes is he Who dares to look deep in your eyes. The girls laugh. Elba With bewitching mockery. Sir Poet — of Stickley and Stowett! — I pray you let your Hero know it; If his valour depends On the eyes of his friends. It were better for him to forgo it. The girls laugh. Jack That's one on you, Phil. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 15 The Rector's Daughter Holding out her hand to Philip with ejfusion. I must congratulate you, Philip. Father told us about Stickley offering you a partnership. He said it was tremendous luck to be taken into that Firm. Philip Thank you. Minnie O why did you come — you men? You have spoiled everything. Elsa, please read. Jack Yes, do, Elsa. I want to know what happened to that sphinx-minx in the woods. I'll bet she cried quarts before the day was up, and spoiled her best veil. Several of the Girls Read, Elsa. Read! Elsa Smiling. In this presence? Never! i6 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Minnie Well then, I'm going home, it is time for luncheon. Jack I call that mesmerism, Minnie. I have been willing you to go, for the last haK hour. The Rector's Daughter Jack, are you really going to the war? Jack You bet I am! The Rector's Daughter How awful! Jack Awful? It's perfectly bully! The Rector's Daughter But you might get shot. Jack Shot? Imagine me shot! How would I look shot? That's not my style. No, my dear, I bear a charmed life. Bullets cannot penetrate the pan- oply of armour that I wear. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 17 The Rector's Daughter ReaUy? Jack ReaUy and truly, black and bluely. Ask Minnie. The Rector's Daughter What does he mean, Minnie? Minnie Scornfully. I haven't the faintest idea; neither has he. Jack I say, Minnie, it isn't becoming to your beauty, when you curl your lip like that! If you don't start soon, I'll give up my belief in mesmerism. Minnie Come, Elsa. Elsa is Jar too clever to spoil a ttte-dritte. Elsa I want the air. I've not been dancing all the morning. Au revoir. Minnie and Jack walk of together and the other girls follow j two by two. Elsa sits again upon the turf. i8 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Philip Courteously, May I stay, Elsa? Elsa The Village Green is free. Philip Not now. When you are here it is royal ground. I have something to tell you. May I stay? Elsa waves her hand to the turf with a gracious acquiescence, Philip throws himself upon the ground and looks up into her face. He looks at her a moment, then speaks as though compelled. You are very beautiful. Elsa A trifle impatiently. Is that your news? I do not like personalities. Philip Pardon me, that is your limitation. You should be so impersonal that you are above personalities; you should be so free from egoism that you are unconscious of the ego. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 19 £lsa Laughing. You always make nonsense sound like sense, Philip. What is your news? Philip I told you, the other day, of the good fortune that has come to me — Elsa Somewhat scornfiMy, that! — {She rises and makes a sweeping cour- tesy). I salute you, Mr. Attorney-at-law — of the firm of Stickley and Stowett — Counsellor, Judge j Lord Chief Justice-to-be! Phtlip Seriously. No — it is not that. Elsa Looking at him with sudden apprehension. Has anything happened, Philip? She sits again beside him. Philip 1 have thrown up the place — I have enlisted. 20 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Elsa With shining eyes. Enlisted? — You? Philip Yes. Why not I? I have always intended to go, from the very first moment, but I did not talk of it. I should rather be a soldier than anything in the world! My fingers ache to punish that out- rageous Nation for its cruel oppression — I long to be a part of the rescue to the oppressed. I waited, hoping that I might be able to get a Com- mission — I thought I could arrange it, but I cannot; I have no political pull; neither has Father; so I have enlisted as a private for a year. They think the war will be short, sharp and decisive. They are taking volunteers for a year. I shall have to win my Commission before the year is up. Elsa With kindling enthusiasm. You will win it! Did you not always win, in all the games and in everything you ever tried to do? Philip Significantly. No — not always, Elsa. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 21 Elsa Ignoring his evident meaning. You will win in war. Philip I take that as a prophecy. Elsa Why did you not tell me you intended to go? Philip I did not tell anyone. Elsa With glowing cheeks. But I am not anyone — and you talked with me only last week of your future. You told me of Stickley's offer. Philip With emotion. That was the warrant for my daring. I should not have waited all these months except that I had to know my future was secure. After I left the University, I did not know where I stood; my luck came sooner than I thought; and the moment it came, I went to you, for then I had a warrant; 22 IN THE VANGUARD [act i now, I have a double warrant — the Army and the Law; Stickley says he will keep my place open for any length of time. (With a crestfallen air). But — Elba Interrupting, her cheeks glowing. Philip, I will tell you a secret — a great secret. I was frantic the other night, when you spoke to me; I have been for weeks — disappointed, an- gry, — that you were settling down to Law when I felt you should go to war — to this glorious war! Philip Smiling. That is no secret; I knew it all the time; and I knew, also, all the time, that I was going. Elsa Embarrassed. Philip, you are so — so — Philip Well! Elsa So different from other men — {after a pause, a sudden tenderness welling within her). Will you forgive me? ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 23 Philip Astonished at the word. Forgive you? Elsa Yes — for doubting you — for the limerick — O for everything! Will you? Philip I love you. Elsa starts — the colour sweeps over her face and brow. I promised you, Elsa, that I would not speak to you again, just yet ■ — but — if I live — Elsa Her voice trembling. If you live! Philip If I come home victorious — then I will ask you once more the question of my heart. Elsa turns toward Philip; the colour deepens in her cheeks, the light deepens in her eyes. She hesitates for a mo- ment; she is about to lift the veil of her reserve; she looks across the Common; then rises quickly, and as though to throw of her emotion, speaks lightly and with the bright gaiety for which she is distinguished. 24 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Elsa I must go home at once or Mother will be sending out the Town Crier. She starts to move away; Philip starts to follow her. No, — please, — Philip. — Don't come. Look — John Judson is crossing the Common — intercept him — let me escape — I could not stand him just now. She walks away swiftly, Philip Looking after her, I will win! — And I will win her! ACT I SCENE n ACT I SCENE II A Week Later. Morning The Village Green A group of excited and expectant boys on the Green. The Boys Singing. Get your gun, get your gun, And shoot them every one. Let them fly, let them die, Let them perish as they run. Get your gun, get your gun, O go and get your gun! Several girls run in. First Girl Did you see the soldiers? Aren't they jolly? — the brass buttons and the gold braid. Second Girl My stars! How handsome the men look in their uniforms! 27 28 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Third Girl Do they march this afternoon? First Boy Yes, and they are going to drill now, down hy the Old Mill. Don't miss 'em. Music is heard in the distance. The Boys dl run of. The Girls Come — let us go, too! They follow the Boys, Enter Elsa, Elba Eagerly. Martial music ! How thrilling it all is ! Even Jack looks transformed — and as for Philip — Enter Philip, hurriedly; he wears the uniform of a private. Philip Elsa — I am glad — you are here — I went to your house — I feared I should miss you — Elba Apprehensively. What is it, Philip? ACT I] IN THE VANGUARD 29 Philip I came to say good-bye. Elsa Startled. Good-bye? To-day? — I thought your regiment did not go until next week? Philip The plan is changed — we, also, march this after- noon. He holds out his hand. Elsa silently ptUs her hand in his — he looks down at her earnestly; to his surprise he sees tears in her eyes; his face becomes illumined; his voice vibrant with emotion, Elsa — I know, now, that I may hope. EUa unfastens a rose from her bodice and gives it to him for answer. He kisses it, A rose of promise ! I will keep it until death. Elsa Trembling. Don't say that word! 30 IN THE VANGUARD [Act i Philip Laughing lightly. I face death to find new life. Elsa with effort throws of the shadow from her spirit. Elsa Don't you remember when we were at school, you called me "Sybil," for you said what I predicted always came to pass? Let me prophesy now. You will win — honor — victory — fame! Philip And then — Elsa? Elsa Fascinatingly. O then you will be Captain. Philip And then — Elsa? Elsa Almost inaudihly. You will be the ' Captain of my Soul.' ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 31 Philip My Beloved. He takes her hand and lends over it reverently. The notes of a bugle are heard in the distance. Elsa — I must go — Good-bye. Elsa Softly, Good-bye. She swallows a lump in her throat and blinks fast; she draws herself up, stands at attention and makes a salute^ as she has seen the men do at drill; all the while she is laughing and sparkling, Philip, catching the spirit of her resolve, gives the military salute, with distinction, and leaves her, marching of to the right; when he reaches the trees which will shut Elsa from his sight, he stands still, and looks back at her for a moment, his soul in his eyes. Then he dis- appears, Elsa Looking towards the trees which hide Philip from her sight, O Philip — Philip — She bursts into tears. ACT I SCENE ni ACT I SCENE III Two Months Later. Afternoon The Village Green Two hoys are wrestling. Four other boySy standing ahoid, applaud and urge them on. First Boy Go it, Jim — I bet on you. Second Boy Give it to him, Billy — Give it to him! A Seventh Boy, greatly excited, runs in from the left. Seventh Boy Shouting. Hello! D'you want to hear the news? The boys stop wrestling and all gather around him with curiosity; with much satisfaction, he keeps them waiting a few minutes, holding his news in leash and looks from one to the other with an air of importance, 35 36 IN THE VANGUARD [act i First Boy Out with it! Out with it! Second Boy What's the matter with you? Seventh Boy With the air of a herald. WeVe won a battle! Great excitement follows. Second Boy Honest? No guy? Seventh Boy Honest Injun. News just come in. — VlHiipped 'em to a frazzle! The boys set up a loud cheer and begin to make things gener- ally hideous with antics and noise. First Boy Looking across the Common. Cheese it! Cheese it! Stop your hollering. There comes the G. O. M. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 37 Second Boy O he doesn't mind noise. Hurrah — he's home again! He's a brick! Third Boy You bet he's a brick. First Boy He's a cracker- jack and golly but he's rich! Fourth Boy He's a brick and a cracker-jack all right, but he preaches too much. Third Boy Shut up! His preaching's a sight better than the Rector's. It hasn't got any religion in it. First Boy O yes it has; it's got the kind of religion that gets inside of you. Fourth Boy In an awed voice. Father says he's an awful infidel. 38 IN THE VANGUARD [act i First Boy What are you giving us? It's a blamed shame to call the G. O. M. names and don't you forget it. Look at this town — what would it be if it weren't for him? Fourth Boy Who is a prig. Giving money and building buildings don't make a man good. No Sir-ee! There he is! Maybe he'll tell us about his trip. First Boy Gee hoo! There's the Rector coming the other way, no use trying to talk to the G. O. M. now. Let's run, lickety split! I haven't been to Sunday School in a month. No juvenile court for me this afternoon, if you please. Second Boy Nor for me — not on yoiir life! The hoys give the street yell and run away just as Mr. Greart enters at the left and the Rector enters at the right. Mr. Greart is a very young man very many years old. He has silver white hair, eyes as brown as a robin's and as keen as an eagle's. He has an irresistible smile, and carries himself as erect and as straight as an old pine tree of the forest; every boy, every girl, and every little child in ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 39 the village loves Greart. He is lavishly generous to the children, hut his generosity is tonical and not enervat- ing. He stimulates rather than spoils them by his in- dulgences. The Rector is a pompous man with an ingratiating smile, but expressionless eyes; he wears extreme clerical dress — he lifts his hat with exaggerated deference, and speaks in low unctuous tones. The Rector Good morning, Mr. Greart — Good morning! Glad to see you home again. I hope you are well, Sir — quite well? Mr. Greart Thank you. Doctor, I am veiy ill. The Rector 111, Sir? — 111? — You don't tell me; I am sorry to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope — nothing serious. Mr. Greart The most serious thing in civilization — War. The Rector Puzzled. I don't think I follow you. Sir, I don't think I follow you. 40 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Mr. Greart This accursed war has made me bilious. The Rector Accursed war, Sir? Why, this is God's holy war. Mr. Greart Laughing. That is the kind of God you worship? No wonder the churches are empty! The Rector Drawing himself up. We number three hundred and fifty communicants, and the present Confirmation Class numbers twenty-five — a goodly number — a goodly niun- ber. Mr. Greart My dear Doctor, don't you know that your com- municants might number three hundred thousand, if you preached a logical God? The Rector Ingratiatingly. Pardon me, my dear Mr. Greart, if I make a sug- gestion, in a friendly way, all in a friendly way. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 41 This habit of facetiousness you indulge in, I fear affects your influence. / understand it, my dear Sir, but others may not. I know that your heart is in the right place. It is true that you are not a member of the Church, but you are most generous to Her, always. By the by, I really must thank you again, although you forbade me, for our most magnificent Parish House. You don't know what you have done for us — you don't know what you have done. Mr. Greart I know perfectly well; you needed it sadly. I did it for the children. The Rector It was not for the children that you added my ample and luxurious study — it was a munificent gift, Mr. Greart, a munificent gift, and I thank you. Mr. Greart Cordially, I am glad you like it. Doctor; your life of self- sacrifice deserves good gifts. 42 IN THE VANGUARD [act i The Rector Elated. You are very generous in what you say — praise from Sir Hubert, you know! — Praise from Sir Hubert! Mr. Greart By the by, Doctor, I wish you would let me add a theatre to the Parish House, and give the children good plays on Sunday after Sunday School. The Rector Mr. Greart! — I really — I must say — A theatre after Sunday School! x^ Mr. Greart You know we differ. Doctor. The Rector Yes, Sir — but I had hoped — it has been a great pleasure to see you in the sanctuary, of late — a very great pleasure. Mr. Greart It amuses me to go. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 43 The Rector Startled. Amuses you, Sir? Mr. Greart Lack of logic always amuses me. Logic is the foundation of life. The Rector Irritated. I fail to understand you, Mr. Greart. Mr. Greart The last Sunday I was at Church, before I went away, you talked most eloquently about the God of Battles, and ended with an invocation to the God of Peace; how can a logical God possibly be a God of Battles and a God of Peace at the same time? The Rector Peace after battle, Mr. Greart, Peace after battle. Mr. Greart That is not Peace, that is merely the cessation of hostilities, merely a negation. Peace is a posi- tive — a great constructive, conclusive, abiding 44 IN THE VANGUARD [act i force — an altitude of the soul — the soul of a person or the soul of a nation. The Rector My dear Sir, if you read history — Mr. Greart Interrupting, I have read history, that's what's the matter. I find that all the wars in the world have never stopped war. The clever philosopher, Christ, who had a way of seeing all around a subject, was quite right when He said, "They that take the sword shall perish with the sword" — they always do — it has been the final nemesis, sooner or later, of all warlike nations. The Rector In a reproachful and solemn tone. Our blessed Lord, Who is not a philosopher but Who is "Very God of Very God" said, "I come not to bring Peace but a sword." Mr. Greart A trifle sharply. I cannot hear Christ's words so misinterpreted; I admire Him too profoundly. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 45 The Rector With asperity. Tut, tut — Mr. Greart. Mr. Greart The word Christ used is separation, division, — ^ ^ I come not to bring Peace but Separation. ' ' Even if sword is the correct translation, it is perfectly manifest it is used as an illustration. Christ says — "I came not to send Peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law." Do you think the great Teacher meant for one mo- ment that it was His mission to bring a sword — as such — between a mother and a daughter? — Fiddle-de-dee! The Rector Growing red in the face. I must say — Mr. Greart For Heaven's sake, why can't we use the same common sense in interpreting the words of Christ that we do in interpreting the words of any other 46 IN THE VANGUARD [act i writer or teacher? Shakespeare, for example, says — "Jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops." Nobody is fool enough to argue from those words that Shakespeare thought day was a veritable maiden with actual toes. The Rector Distinctly ruffled. Really, Mr. Greart, you have a most irreverent way of speaking; at times you seem almost profane. Mr. Greart I can imderstand a man defending war on pagan groimds, but I protest in the name of Justice against making Christ an apologist for war; he is the Apostle of Peace, and it irritates me to have perfectly manifest meanings twisted to suit the belligerent spirit of humanity. In this in- stance, at least, which is the one most often quoted, it is quite ridiculous to believe that the word sword is not used as an illustration of separation. There is always a sharp sword of separation divid- ing two persons of diametrically opposite views of life — dividing you and me, for example. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 47 The Rector With an assumption of dignity. I fear we are very definitely divided. Mr. Greart Goodnaturedly, Certainly; I believe in Peace; you believe in War; the sword of the spirit separates us completely. The Rector Losing his temper. Do you mean to say that I do not believe in Peace? I — I? — "How beautiful are the feet of' them that preach the Gospel of Peace!" Mr. Greart With one lung you do breathe the benediction of Peace most eloquently, but with the other, my Friend, you certainly blow the tnunpet of Battle! The Rector Stiffly, I bid you good morning, Mr. Greart. 48 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Mr. Greart Holding out his hand in a way no one cotitd resist. Now please don't be offended, Doctor. I cannot for the life of me mix the two any more than I can mix darkness and daylight. It is all a matter of logic; if you can show me how to do it, I shall be grateful, for I delight in mental gymnastics. The Rector Faith is higher than logic, Mr. Greart — Faith is higher than logic. Mr. Greart I grant you that — as much higher as the arch springing from the pavement is higher than the foundation; but it must be a faith founded on logic. The Rector Softening to a patronising tone. You have, sometimes, a strange manner, Mr. Greart, but I think you are all right at heart. Mr. Greart With his irresistible smile. Thank you. Doctor, I like your article on " Bees " in "The Country Gentleman." I read it with much interest. It is well done. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 49 The Rector Mtich mollified. That is very kind of you. I hope I shall see you at Even Song to-day, Mr. Greart. We are to have a special thanksgiving for this great victory vouch- safed to us. A quizzical look comes into Mr. Grearfs eyes; he has often been heard to say that he finds few things so humorous as the Rector^ s utter lack of the sense of humour. Mr. Greart That reminds me. I had a most remarkable dream last night. The Rector Dreams interest me extremely. Since the time of Joseph they have been significant. Mr. Greart I wonder, Doctor, if you can interpret my dream for me! The Rector Pray let me hear it. Mr. Greart I dreamed that I stood upon a high place between the heavens and the earth, and I saw before me a so IN THE VANGUARD [act i beautiful angel with shining opalescent wings, and I knew in my dream that it was Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer. He, it is, the legend says, who stands ready to carry the prayers of the children of men to the Lord of Hosts. The Rector Most interesting, my dear Sir, most interesting. I know the old legend well. Mr. Greart And in my dream, it was as in the legend, the prayers, ascending, changed into flowers that Sandalphon might carry them to the Lord. And I heard a mighty murmur — "Save this people, Lord! "Deliver us from the hands of our enemies. Abate their pride, assuage their malice, smite them and bring destruction upon them. Grant us victory, O Lord." And I knew it was the prayers of the men of the East going forth to war with the men of the West. As I waited, I heard another mighty murmur — "Save this people, Lord! " DeHver us from the hands of our enemies. Abate their pride, assuage their malice, smite them and ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 51 bring destruction upon them. Grant us victory, O Lord." And I knew it was the prayers of the men of the West, going forth to fight the men of the East. There stood Sandalphon — and I assure you, he looked as puzzled as a Dutch lawyer. The Rector Growing angry. Tut, tut — Mr. Greart! Mr. Greart A tough problem for Sandalphon, wasn't it? Most embarrassing position, I must say, to carry to the Lord the same prayers from opposite camps. You are right. Doctor; faith is higher than logic, but one side or the other is up against it, in that kind of faith. The Rector Sir — Sir — Mr. Greart No offence. Doctor! It was only a dream. To the manifest relief of the Rector, who is glad of any straw to save the situation, Elsa comes tripping across the Common. / 52 IN THE VANGUARD [i6t i The Rector / Holding Old his hand to detain her. How do you do, Elsa? Elsa Shaking hands. How do you do, Rector. Isn't the news splendid? Turning to Mr. Greart, holding out her hand to him. Mr. Greart, I am so glad to see you! We have missed you! The village is not the same place when you are away. Mr. Greart Thank you, Elsa. Elsa Turning to the Rector. I've had a letter from Jack — all is going famously! The Rector Teasingly. No letter from Philip? Elsa Frankly^ the colour rising to her cheeks. Yes, from Philip, also. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 53 With enthusiasm. He is making his mark! He doesn't' say so — he is too modest, but I see it between the Knes, and Jack says he is winning distinction every day. Mr. Greart Philip is a fine fellow! The Rector Elsa, what do you think? Mr. Greart doesn't approve of the war; we have been having quite an argument on the subject. Elsa Looking at Mr. Greart in surprise. You do not approve of this war? Mr. Greart Smiling, My dear young lady! When you open those great eyes of yours like that, and ^ them upon me in reproach, I am so rattled that I do not know what I do or do not believe. Elsa Pleadingly. No, but seriously Mr. Greart, don't you think this war is glorious? Don't you think it is our 54 IN THE VANGUARD [act i duty to punish a Nation that has behaved so abominably? Mr. Greart I do not precisely see the logic of behaving abomin- ably ourselves in order to punish another Nation for behaving abominably to some one else. Elsa Impatiently. That is not fair! Mr. Greart In a more serious tone. My child, I do not believe in war. Elsa Amazed. You do not believe in war? Mr. Greart Smiling. Never — for any reason whatsoever. Elsa With the air of a doctrinaire. What would become of the manly virtues? ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 55 Mr. Greart Now, Elsa, you are not speaking your own lan- guage. You are using the idioms of tradition. Your words sound like your Father and your Grandfather. Elsa Impetuously. All right, then; I will say it in my own words. I do not want my brother, nor my men friends, to be molly-mushes. The Rector Excellent, Elsa! Excellent! Mr. Greart My fair H3^atia, if you are teaching young men, let me recommend you to a certain valuable old book, a Book of Life and Truth, which hits the bull's eye with unerring precision every time. There you will find these words — "He that ruleth his spirit" is better "than he that taketh a city." You may teach your young men that there is the fullest scope for every manly virtue, every virile quality in the category for the man who even tries to conquer himself. 56 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Elsa With an impatient toss of her head. What would a Nation be without its heroes? Mr. Greart Nothing; but let us have the Heroes of the Durable. The Rector Heroes of the Durable? I do not follow you. Elsa What do you mean by Heroes of the Durable? It sounds like an incantation. Mr. Greart Do you know what Napoleon said at St. Helena? Elba With enthusiasm. He is one of my Heroes! I thought I had read everything he ever said, but I do not remember anything about the "Heroes of the Durable." Mr. Greart He did not use that term, but he said this: "The more I study the world, the more am I convinced ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 57 of the inability of brute force to create anything durable." Elsa Did Napoleon say that? Mr. Greart He did; but he said it too late; he said it after he had shed rivers of blood, mangkd myriad armies, desolated and depopulated the world; we may learn of him and arrive at his final conclusion in the beginning, if we will. Elba With heat. He didn't mean it ! He only said it to get even with his destiny when he was at St. Helena, and could not use brute force any longer. Mr. Greart What did Napoleon gain by all the barren glory of his arms? Elsa Ardently. He gained my love! 58 IN THE VANGUARD [act i Mr. Greart With old-fashioned gallantry. That is the first argument that I have ever heard in favour of war that has made the slightest im- pression upon me. Elsa Thoughtfully. How can there be Heroes of the Durable? Mr. Greart Those who have sacrified self to service — the Scientists, the Educators, the Upbuilders of the Nation, the Reformers, those are the true heroes — those who give and spend themselves for the Dur- able — the eternal forces of life. Elsa With glowing cheeks and eyes. You may have them all! Give me the brave fighters; keen-eyed, long-limbed, daring soldiers, who go forth fearlessly to fight for the Right, ready to spend their strength and spill their blood for their country. Mr. Greart looks at Elsa admiringly and smiles at her en- thusiasm. ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 59 The Rector Dogmatically. This is the world we live in, Mr. Greart, a world of flesh and blood — Eternity lies beyond. Mr. Greart Eternity is now! If eternity has not begun now, then there is none beyond. Elsa ponders these words; the Rector opens his mouth to answer but changes his mind and the subject at the same time. The Rector Come to the Rectory and have a cup of tea. My wife will be glad to see you. Mr. Greart Thank you, but you must excuse me. I am already late for an engagement. Good afternoon, Elsa. Good afternoon, Doctor. The Rector Good afternoon. Sir. Elsa Farewell — I will see you to-morrow. Exit Mr, Greart, 6o IN THE VANGUARD [act i The Rector With Pharisaic precision. "A rich man shall hardly enter into the Kingdom of Heaven." Elsa Indignantly. Rector! If Mr. Greart can't enter Heaven, then I do not wish to go there. The Rector Do not speak like that, Elsa. It is not seemly. (Smiling indulgently). But I thought you did not agree with Mr. Greart. Elsa About war? Of course I do not agree with him. He is entirely, completely, outrageously wrong about that; but I do not have to agree with him to know he is just the cleverest, dearest, noblest, truest — The Rector Interrupting. Come ! Come ! Elsa ! What will be left for your old Rector? ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 6i Elsa Mischievously. I do not see any old Rector. The Rector Who has a secret but well-known pride in the preservation of Ms face and form. Well, well, you always know how to get out of a pit. Will you come to the Rectory for tea? The sound of drums is heard in the distance and Elsa^s twinkling feet keep time to the tattoo. Elsa With pleasure! ACT II SCENE I ACT II SCENE I Three Months Later In the Enemy s Country A room that was once exquisitely dainty, but is now muddy, dirty, and enveloped in tobacco smoke. Delicate fem- inine articles lie soiled or broken on the floor. A soldier is lounging in a plush chair, his feet upon a low carved table from which have fallen several bits of bric-a-brac. He has in his hand a dainty little fan with the end of which he is stuffing tobacco into his pipe. Four other soldiers are playing cards at a table. Philip, in uniform, sits at an open piano and drums upon the keys. First Soldier Shouting. Hie, you girl, there! Hurry up with that beer! Don't forget the biscuit and cheese. Damn it! What keeps you so long? Philip continues to play. Second Soldier Throwing down a card. I play the ace. Give us a song, Gordon! 6s 66 IN THE VANGUARD [act n A young girl enters bearing a pitcher of foaming beer and a tray with glasses, biscuit, and cheese. She is a slight refined girl. She is trembling, and her face is very pale; baffled hatred is in her eyes; she hurriedly places the tray and the beer on the table, and turns to leave the room; as she reaches the door the First Soldier, the one who is lounging in the chair, springs after her. FmsT Soldier Putting his arm around her. By gad, those lips are sweeter than cheese! The girl clinches her frail hands and beats them upon the burly breast of the man; her eyes blaze. The Girl I will kill you, if you kiss me! The Soldier laughs; the other Soldiers laugh, also. First Soldier Kill me? Ha, Ha! My pretty butterfly — Nip away! Do you think you can stop me? Philip jumps suddenly from the piano-stool and surprises the man by seizing his arms from behind, thus making him release his hold of the girl. Philip Curtly. I can, if she can't. ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 67 The Girl, released, runs away. The Soldier, red and angry, faces Philip. He lunges at Philip; they close and wrestle. The man is an excellent shot hut no athlete; Philip is both; they wrestle for a few minutes, the others look up from their cards with interest. Finally, Philip, by a quick turn, throws the man on his knees. The Soldiers cheer. First Soldier Yielding. All right — we're quits. Philip Calmly, going back to the piano. We will be, if you leave that young lady alone — otherwise — Ue strikes a chord and begins to sing. The pipers pipe, the drummers beat, We hear the sound of tramping feet; Our merry men are marching fast; For the trumpet blows the welcome blast, O the trumpet blows the welcome blast! Our gallant troop is glad and gay! As we laughing ride away, away, We care not what we leave behind; For the scent of war is on the wind, O the scent of war is on the wind! 68 IN THE VANGUARD [act n The Soldier has come to the piano, during the song, and, leaning on it, has listened; slowly his anger has changed to good humour. First Soldier That's jolly! I won't bear you any grudge, but — say — I think it was damned priggish to spoil a kiss! Philip Still playing. It's not priggish to protect a young lady from being insulted — and if it is — I'll continue to be a prig. One of the Soldiers at the Card Table A man who fights as Gordon did, yesterday, can't be called a prig, no matter how moral he is. Second Soldier He has earned the right to kiss any girl he wants, or prevent another fellow from kissing her if he wants to. If it hadn't been for him, yesterday — Philip Impatiently. O give us a rest! He strikes loud chords on the piano to drown their words. ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 69 First Soldier Leaning on the piano and talking so loudly that his voice rises above the din of Philip's music. Say — I was only taking the rights of war. Philip Scornfully, emphasising his words with loud musical chords. The rights of war! The rights of war! We fight, we win a battle, we invade this country, we come to this house, we take possession of it; a mother is dying up stairs, the servants have run away, a young inexperienced girl is alone. We desecrate the house, smash her jimcracks — (waving his hand towards the room). We smoke out her violet perfume with rank tobacco, make her wait on us and then kiss her by force! By Jove! It cuts! First Soldier She's damned lucky. If she had lived years ago — in fact, if she lived now in Turkey or any other barbarous country — she would be lying in a pool of blood. But in civiHsed warfare — Philip Impatiently. In civilised warfare we can be as uncivilised as we please provided it is ^'civilised warfare.' ' 70 IN THE VANGUARD [act n First Soldier O dry up! You sing better than you talk — go on — sing us another song. Philip Not until I have had some beer. Philip goes to the table and helps himself to beer. ACT II SCENE II ACT II SCENE II Eight Months Later In the Enemy s Country, Twilight The wooded border of a battle-field after a battle. In the far distance are seen men and horses lying on the ground^ and from the distance are heard confused, awful sounds. In the foreground is the entrance to a quiet bit of wood- land. Philip J in the uniform of a lieutenant, is standing on the edge of the woods. Sick at the horrors, he draws a long breath of relief as he leaves the terrible scene of carnage behind and approaches this peaceful place. Having done his duty of search, he is again at high tension from the intoxicating delight of victory and the virile after- math of the lust of battle; he is in haste to reach the camp to mess with his rollicking comrades and discourse upon the glories of war and the delight in this signal victory; he is congratulating himself he has gotten be- yond those fragments of human beings, those mangled masses of his fellow-men. It has been a long-fought battle and it is a gory field. Philip has had some nerve-racking services to perform in the last four hours. The battle ended at three o^ clock; it is now seven. He is very hungry and tired, although he is too excited to realise this, 73 74 IN THE VANGUARD [act n Philip Drawing a long breath. Thank God, I am out of that! From the shadow of one of the trees comes a prolonged groan, Philip goes to the place from whence it comes and sees one of the Enemy, lying on the ground. The man had crawled out of the vortex of horror some hours before, had reached this quiet place, had become unconscious and is now coming back to conscious sujffering; his eyes are bright with fever. Philip Stooping over him with eager solicitude. What may I do for you, my Friend? The Enemy Hoarsely. You have ripped open my side — you have blown off my arm — you have torn my face — I don't think I care to have you do anything more, thank you. Philip pours water from his canteen and holds it to the Enemy s lips. Philip Here — take this water. ACT ii] IN THE VANGUARD 75 The Enemy Turning away. Water — from you? Not if I were in Hell ! Philip Please take it from me — We are both soldiers. The Enemy I'm not a soldier now — I am just a man — ^blown to atoms — and cut to shreds — going out into the dark. Philip You are feverish. Please take this water. The Enemy I am not feverish. I am perfectly sane — sane — for the first time in all my life. I see clearly for the first time — I tell you death takes the blood- mist from our eyes. Philip Then, if you are sane, remember your code. The Enemy Code be damned! Men trick themselves with lies. I see it all now — all the artificial stuff I have 76 IN THE VANGUARD [act n talked all my life. I am a lying hypocrite. Mili- tary glory — heroism — bravery! Bah! Why, I wouldn't blow a dog to atoms, for any reason, as I have blown my fellow-men for years — and never thought about it — as you have blown me. Philip Sternly, Don^t say that again! The Enemy With a harsh laugh. Ha! How particular we are about names! Call a man a brave soldier and his gold-embroidered breast swells, he is puffed up with pride. Call a man a murderer and he is ready to knock you down. He coughs, loses Ms breath for a moment, then continues, 4 smiling grimly. You can't knock me down any farther — I am in the dust now — the dust of which I shall soon be a part. Philip takes a flask from his pocket and holds it to the Enemas lips. Philip You must take this brandy. The Enemy refuses the brandy. ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 77 The Enemy Laughing hoarsely. Of course! If I continued to talk the language of lies I should be a regulation specimen of mihtary tradition. But as I speak the bald truth, you think I am a wandering lunatic. You are a mur- derer, and don't you forget it — But — so — am — I. With rasping emphasis. We trick oiu: minds, and do not think, and if, by chance, we do accompHsh the difficult task of thinking, we don't think straight. My God! I have been thinking straight since I lay in this pool of blood. You talk about the code! What is the first fetich of the code? It is the unity of the army. If the army is a unit, working together , then each man has his share in each act of the whole; — every man that falls on the other side falls by the pur- pose — the intent of each soldier in the army, and intent is the basis of crime. I have killed in my time — let me see — I have been adding up since I lay here, before I fainted — let me see — what was it? I have been in the army ten years — I have killed about ninety-five thousand men at the least — probably more — Yes — I have killed ninety-five thousand men! — I am going to my 78 IN THE VANGUARD [act n Mother's God with the murder of ninety-five thou- sand men on my soul — What shall I say to Him? A look oj awe comes into the Enemas eyes. What shall I say to Him? Philip I have never heard anything so utterly mad. You must take this brandy. Again, Philip puts the brandy to his mouth; again, the Enemy pushes it away. The Enemy The moment the scales fall from a man's eyes and he begins to use his brains, men give him brandy and say he is mad. Philip If you are sane, you will die like a soldier. The Enemy O I'll die like a soldier all right — that doesn't trouble me — what troubles me is that I've been killing like a soldier for ten years — I tell you, dy- ing opens the door and one sees a new view. I thought I was a fine hero and I find I'm just a common murderer — a wholesale murderer! ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 79 Philip Persuasively. Please hush! The Enemy Talking rapidly. Wait until you come to die, and see how differently you will see everything — that is — if you let yourself look — most men don't — they die with their eyes shut — as they have lived! {After a pause). There is another thing — I thought I was an atheist — I could find no scientific proof of God — but — I believe I beHeve in my Mother's God; I can't get away from Him. He has tracked me, — He has run me down. And now I am going to stand face to face with Him, straight from this Hell — which I made — with the murder of ninety-five thousand men on my soul — ninety- five thousand! Philip For God's sake, don't say that again — it is hideous. The Enemy Of course it is hideous, because it is true. If our boasted Unity means anything — then each man 8o IN THE VANGUARD [act n the army killed as a whole, / killed in intent^ as a part of that whole. Philip Irrelevantly. But the glory of dying for one's country! The Enemy With harsh emphasis, I told you before and I tell you again — thafs not the question. I am glad to die for my Country! That's all right! But I know — now that I come to die — that it is not so glorious to sin for Her. Philip Impatiently. Sin for Her? The Enemy Yes, sin for Her! Killing is against the Law — the law of God — the law of Society — the inner law of Conscience. Calling it fine names doesn't change it. It has been murder in the first degree, for it was intent. Every shot the army fired was intended — aimed — planned to kill, and I was a part of each purpose — each intenL After a pattse. ACT ii] IN THE VANGUARD 8i I never bothered with reHgion, but I worked hard in settlement work and talked all the jargon of the day. I spent two whole nights, once, trying to save a poor wretch for his family; and yet, I have blown to bits ninety-five thousand of my fellow- men — and never thought about it! Isn't it funny? Philip Distressed. I must not argue with you — you are too ill; but perhaps it will comfort you if I remind you that, when men fight for principle, for a moral question, the intent is justified. The Enemy Excitedly. O it doesn't hurt me to talk. You are right — 1 am feverish — It hasn't made me delirious — it has cleared my brain, but it strings up my tongue — to talk. You may argue all you will but, for God's sake, don't talk twaddle to a dying man! Philip It is the truth. The Enemy Excitedly, It is not the truth. Once, when I was sheriff, I 82 IN THE VANGUARD [act n protected an assassin from being torn to pieces by the mob, which he really deserved. He had killed one man only, and, by the measure of his own conscience, he had — what was to him — a high- flown moral motive. I talked with him and really felt him to be sincere — and yet I loathed him; and I have shot ninety-five thousand men and patted myself on the back for a soldier. Bosh! A sane mind that thinks straight can't make those two codes match. Philip Pardon me, my dear Sir, but you are quite cra^! The Enemy Smiling grimly. You mean dying has made me quite sane — at last. Listen to me — Here we are — two Nations with different traditions, different religions, different standards of morals — why, it is only the educated amongst us who can even speak each other's language — how can we understand each other's point of view? I felt, when I came to this war, that if ever a Nation had been base and false, You had — a breaker of faith — a meddler — a — ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 83 Philip Sternly. That will do! The Enemy I honestly did; and — you seem an honest man •— perhaps you had something of the same feeling about us — Philip Sharply. Rather! The Enemy There you go! Now don't you see we can't both be right — we can't both be working for a true principle — it's tommy-rot. You kill me for righteousness and I kill you for righteousness — Don't you see it's silly? Don't you see that the only thing that might justify murder becomes its condemnation? If you and I each honestly thought we were morally right, then it was a matter for arbitration, not for murder. Philip In distress. My Friend! If I did not do it before, I am cer- tainly committing murder now by permitting you to talk. 84 IN THE VANGUARD [act n The Enemy With the first touch of pathos in his voice. let me talk! Let me talk! I shall be quiet enough soon! It eases me to talk. Ever had fever? Something flames within you and it loosens the tension to talk. I could talk — and talk • — and talk — and — He loses consciousness. Philip bends over him and bathes his face with water; after a moment, the Enemy opens his eyes. Philip With solicitude. 1 must go for help — our men are near. The Enemy Laughing hoarsely. That's funny too. Blow a man to pieces in the name of patriotism, and then try to patch the pieces together in the name of humanity. It's really comic when you come to think about it — I won't be party to such a farce any longer. There's no help for me now, and besides — I wouldn't take it from an enemy! There is an awful silence, broken only by the ominous sound in the man's throat and by piteous sounds that come from the battle-field. ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 85 The Enemy His voice broken and failing. Mary — Mary — the roses — in the garden — Put your head upon my breast — No — it is wet with blood — it will hurt your beautiful hair. Philip, very pale and with something new in his eyes, leans over the Enemy, The Enemy Brokenly. Universal Brotherhood — those are your words, Mary! Say, old Chap — give us your hand — He tries to move his only hand toward Philip. Philip takes it tenderly. The Enemy Uni — vers — al Brotherhood — Ee dies. The twilight fades and all is dark. After a time, out of the darkness, the voice of Philip is heard speaking slowly in level tones, Philip He is my Brother — and I have killed him! ACT II SCENE III ACT n SCENE III The Next Day In the Enemy s Country, Sunrise A wooded place about a quarter of a mile from the hattle-field. Philip, with a face as grey as ashes , and with head bent in profound thought, is walking through the woods. The General enters from the right, Philip straightens himself and salutes. The General Cordially, Ah! Lieutenant. You are the very man I wished to see. I was intending to send for you this morn- ing. I took note of you again, yesterday. {Scan- ning his face), Beelzebub! What's the matter? Not used to fields after battle, eh? You'll get used to it, young man, as you get older. A fighter like you gets over being squeamish. Don't like battle- fields myself — they turn my stomach the next day, but I had to come out to look for some of my boys; they go too fast, poor fellows! But God be praised! There are others to take their places. 89 Qo IN THE VANGUARD [act n You will step into Captain Mett's shoes. You fought like a tiger, yesterday. I watched you. Philip In a tone of distress. Please don't, Sir. The General Why Don't? Modest, eh? I like that. I will see to it that you have the Commission at once. Philip Very pale. I cannot take it. Sir. The General Beelzebub, the Prince of Devils! Are you crazy? Philip I do not know — perhaps — but — The General Have you seen a ghost? Philip Solemnly, Yes, Sir. The General laughs. I have seen the Holy Ghost. ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 91 The General 'Pon my soul — you are a blasphemous young devil! Philip With hesitation. I have had a vision of — of — what I suppose men call the Holy Spirit — I have been face to face with it all night — It is something one cannot put into words. The General Curtly. I beg you will not try to put it into words — the less said about it, the better! If you have been up all night you need your breakfast — that's what's the matter with you. Go — Get it! Then come to me and talk sense. I salute you, Captain. The General salutes playfully and goes off to the left. Philip salutes the General^ looking after him affectionately y as he walks away with firm military bearing. Philip Desperately. How can I make him see? I should rather storm a breach or scale a wall than face that talk with him. He has been kind, so very good to me. 92 IN THE VANGUARD [act ii But, the truth seems clear to me now, the argu- ments unanswerable — all night they have been marshalling themselves — yet I can foresee the utter futility of trying to make him see. I can foresee the iron-clad impregnability of his mind. Leave the army? — Refuse a Commission? — Re- fuse ever to pull the trigger again or use the sword? — Request only to carry the colours until my time is served? — He will not strike me in anger — he is too just for that, and too discerning; — but God knows that bullets would be soft compared with the epithets I can hear him hurling at me — "lunatic,'' "idiot," "fool," and — worst of all — " sentimentalist." And yet, God help me, I can do no other way. I must stop killing my fellow-men. Last night, it was as though a door opened in my mind, and through the long night I thought and thought — and fought and fought. Tradition, false standards fell away. I saw the ethical con- tradiction of war. True civilisation must mean Construction — not Destruction; it must be unto Life — not unto Death. There must be a better way to settle our difficulties, and every man who accepts war helps to retard the finding of that better way. I never thought of that before — but now that I have thought of it, I dare not go on. ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 93 After a pau^e. Captain! — Captain! And I must give it up! What is any fight compared to a fight like this — a fight with my own soul? — I hoped — I worked — I won — and now — Elsa! Elsa! I have lost you! He throws himself upon the ground beside a tree and covers his face with his hands. ACT in SCENE I ACT m SCENE I One Month Later In the Enemy s Country A wooded place. Three soldiers are sitting on the ground drinking heavily and singing. Singing, The Soldiers here's to the Girl, With the bonny, bonny curl. And the laughing eyes of blue! 1 told her we must part; And it broke her tender heart. Though I vowed I would be true. I can see her even yet. With her pretty cheeks as wet As the roses bathed in dew. O the bonny, bonny Girl, With the bonny, bonny curl, And tears in her eyes of blue! 97 98 IN THE VANGUARD [act in First Soldier That white-livered Gordon goes, to-morrow, thank God! He contaminates the camp. Second Soldier The renegade! The cursed traitor! Let's beat him out of camp, with a leather strap! He hasn't fired a shot since that night. He ought to have been court-martialed. What's the matter with the General, anyhow? First Soldier There is something behind all this — men don't throw up promotion for nothing and Generals don't let them. They say that he hoodooed the General. He offered a Commission to Gordon and he refused point blank to take it, snivelled to go home — and the General did not have him shot! Third Soldier But they say the General was furious; they had a terrible row and talked for hours. First Soldier Scornfully. Row? The only kind of a row he should have with a man like that was to shoot him like a weasel. ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 99 Second Soldier He's let the damned traitor carry the flag. Third Soldier He had to serve until his time was up! First Soldier It's up to-day, thank God! I am sick of seeing the coward. Third Soldier O give the devil his due! He carried the colours into the thickest of the fight every time. He seemed to be running after death. Second Soldier He's ashamed to live — that's why. Third Soldier That shows he isn't a coward, any way. First Soldier I'd coward him if I got hold of him. Thieo) Soldier Now, see here, I'm not stuck on him. And all this Sunday School peace business makes me loo IN THE VANGUARD [act hi gag — this rot about arbitration — arbitration be damned! You might as well talk about two hungry bull-dogs arbitrating over a bone as to talk of angry nations arbitrating a quarrel! But I can't honestly call Gordon a coward. I think he's a fool, a blasted fool, but not a coward. It took more courage to do what he did than to fight a thousand battles, and he has been to the front ever since; why the devil he don't get shot the Lord only knows. First Soldier He's dead already — that's why. Third Soldier Hold up now! He's a pretty live man, and don't you forget it! I'd advise you not to try any of your funny business with him. The Soldiers glare at him. First Soldier Holy Peter! What luck! There he comes! I'll give him a piece of my mind! Second Soldier I'll give him a taste of my fist! The two Soldiers try to rise. ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD loi Third Soldier Laying a detaining hand on his two companions. Sit still you, both of you — you're too full to ex- change compliments with anyone, just now. First Soldier Let me alone, I say! Second Soldier Leave go! Enter Philip in the uniform of a private. The First and Second Soldier break away from the detaining hand of the Third Soldier — they rise and go toward Philip unsteadily. First Soldier In a thick voice. So you are ruiming away, Mr. Traitor! Second Soldier You are a disgrace to mankind, that's what you are. Both Soldiers come nearer to Philip with clinched fists. Philip draws himself up to his full height j his eyes have that power of command, which holds the wild beast in leash with more surety than a blow; something powerful and compelling emanates from him; he speaks in the voice of one having authority. 102 IN THE VANGUARD [act m Philip Stand back! First Soldier Insolently, I want to give you a piece of my mind. Philip I am quite ready to hear it — go on! Philip folds his arms and stands motionless. The Soldiers again start to go toward him. Stand back! Not one step nearer! The Soldiers instinctively fall tack; they mutter something inaudible. The Third Soldier laughs, I am waiting. The Soldiers stand awkwardly, Philip lifts his hat. If you have nothing to say, I will bid you good morning. Philip walks away; the two soldiers stare at him, open- mouthed. Third Soldier Sarcastically, Why didn't you give him a taste of your tongue? Why didn't you give him a taste of your fists? ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 103 First Soldier Holy Peter! There was a blue blaze in his eyes that took it out of me. Second Soldier The liquor muddled me as I went to strike. Third Soldier Reflectively. I wonder if it was the liquor? ACT III SCENE n ACT III SCENE II Four Weeks Later The Village Green as in Act First Elsa and the same girls who were in the first scene are dancing on the Green to the mmic of their tambourines. First Girl Stopping suddenly and looking over the Common, Who is that? As sure as the sun shines, it's Philip Gordon! Elsa starts and stands poised for the dance. The colour sweeps over her face, down to the white line of her dress at the throat and into the soft curls of the hair on her forehead. She looks over the Common. Elba In a tense tone. Philip? — It is Philip. She runs swiftly away and does not look hack as she runs. Second GmL See Elsa run! Just see her run! Where is her 107 io8 IN THE VANGUARD [act m boasted Philip now? She has been blowing his trumpet all the year! And now she won't even speak to him. First Girl I — for my part — don't intend to speak to him either. The Rector's Daughter O we must speak to him! We are Christians, but we can freeze him out all the same. Philip appears in the distance. Ee no longer wears the uni- form of a soldier. He carries a travelling bag. Be- hind him are several small street boys, shabbily dressed, with bare feet; they follow Philip j mimicking his eoery movement and making grotesque faces and gestures in derision. Philip, very pale, is quite conscious of the boys, but he does not turn his head or show them by any sign that he is aware of their presence. As Philip and his train of mockers come in sight of the dancers, the boys run away and Philip alone approaches them, He raises his hat in greeting. The First Girl turns her hack. The others bow coldly. Minnie Kindly. Welcome home, Philip! ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 109 Philip Thank you, Minnie. The Rector's Daughter Holding Old her hand stiffly. How do you do! What a little army you had following you! Why did your little men nm away? Philip Taking her hand and flushing hotly. My httle men were not sufficiently well-dressed to enter this distinguished presence. The Rector's Daughter Elsa ran, too. She ran when she saw you coming. Did you see her? Philip With quiet dignity. Yes — I saw her. The Rector's Daughter I wonder why! Do you remember that day she read us about her hero? Philip Yes, I remember. no IN THE VANGUARD [act m The Rector's Daughter Well, she has been worse than ever about "valiant heroes," as she calls them, ever since the war began. She was crazy about you when you were made Lieutenant. Philip That was kind of her. Good morning — my Mother is expecting me. The Rector's Daughter Hurriedly, to get it in before he escapes. Minnie was reading us a letter from Jack — we are all so proud of him, Philip Warmly, You well may be! I really must hurry on — my Mother is waiting. The Rector's Daughter Your poor Mother! Exit Philip. Minnie Turning to the Rector's Daughter savagely. Vm the Spitfire of the village — you are supposed ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD iii to be the Saint — but, upon my word, I wouldn't change places with you! The Rector's Daughter Surprised. Wouldn't you really? Minnie No — really. The Rector's Daughter In a self-satisfied tone. I am sure I shook hands with him! ACT m SCENE m ACT III SCENE m A Few Minutes Later than the Last Scene A sparsely furnished room in Mr. Gordon's simple house. Two long windows lead to a pleasant porch, which in summer-time becomes part of the room; one of the windows stands open for ventilation. On one side of the room, there is a door leading to the corridor, and on the other side is a large old-fashioned fireplace. Here a bright fire of balsam boughs crackles cheerfully, for though it is the end of May, the weather is uncertain. Mr. Gordon sits by the fire reading a newspaper. Mr. Gordon is a sallow, dyspeptic-looking man with a mouth that shuts like a steel trap; he is nervous and irritable, but to his own mind and that of his wife, he is the just judge whose word is law. Mrs. Gordon, an anxious care-worn woman, is looking out of the closed window. Mrs. Gordon Hesitatingly, When Philip comes, Father, I hope you will be kind to him — Mr. Gordon Sharply. He ought to be beaten with many stripes for he knew better. ii6 IN THE VANGUARD [act jn Mrs. Gordon Father! After a pause. Don't you think it is most time for Philip to come, Father? Mr. Gordon does not answer. After a pause, Mrs. Gordon speaks again. Don't you think it is most time for Philip to come, Father? Mr. Gordon does not answer. Father, what time is it? Mr. Gordon With nervous irritation. What is time? Mrs. Gordon Patiently, 1 don't know, Father, but what time is it? Mr. Gordon Who always treats his grey-haired wife as though she were a child, looking at his watch. It is eleven o'clock; time for you to allow me to finish my paper. ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 117 Mrs. Gordon is silenced; she continues her watch at the win- dow. Mr. Gordon rattles his newspaper in an em- photic, almost aggressive way. Mrs. Gordon Suddenly with as much excitement as she was ever known to show. There he is — there he is — Father! Mr. Gordon Sharply. Who? Mrs. Gordon With exaggerated patience. Why — Philip — Father! Philip's quick step is heard upon the porch and through the open window he comes, with eager haste, to find the shelter of home, after the trying ordeal of his walk across the Common. Philip Agitatedly. Mother! Father! Mrs. Gordon Kissing him. How do you do, my boy? ii8 IN THE VANGUARD [act m Mr. Gordon rises, throws down his paper impatiently , and ptUs his hands behind his back, Mr. Gordon In a tone of arraignment. So you are home, Philip! Philip holds out his hand to his father who does not take it, Philip Father! Won't you shake hands with me? Mr. Gordon Irritably. I don't shake hands with deserters. Philip Imptdsively. Father, take that back! Mrs. Gordon In a strained tone of distress. Don't anger your Father, Philip — he has had enough to bear. Philip Father, you will let me explain — ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 119 Mr. Gordon You explained it all at unnecessary length in your letter; as I wrote you, it was entirely unconvincing. We will now drop the subject. You will have to find something to do. I can't support you. Philip Flushing hotly. Father! Mr. Gordon You won't find it easy. Of course you know that Stickley and Stowett will have nothing to do with you, — nothing whatever. No, you will not find it an easy task to secure work. There isn't a decent House in the town that will take you; the feeling runs high, very high; you must be prepared for that. Even the boys sing ditties about you in the street — {His voice breaks) — about my son — about my son — Philip With feeling. I am very sorry. Mr. Gordon Sharply, No, you are not, or you wouldn't have done it. 120 IN THE VANGUARD [act in Philip I mean I am sorry for your distress. I must do what I think is right. Mr. Gordon In a tone like a whip-lash. Right? Right? Do you think any decent-minded man who ever lived would think what you have done is right? Philip Yes, Father. Mr. Gordon Who? Philip Jesus Christ — Confucius — Buddha — Socrates — Mr. Gordon Interrupting angrily. Don't quibble. It is impertinence! Philip I don't mean impertinence, Sir. Surely, with our boasted civiHsation, some of us at least should remember the wisdom of the philosophers. ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 121 Mr. Gordon His anger rising. Silence! Mrs. Gordon In a flutter. My Son, don't annoy your Father. To Mr. Gordon. Father, you'd better get ready — it is most time for the Rector to come. You know you promised to walk with him to the meeting. {Greatly relieved) . There, I hear his step upon the porch, now. The Rector, who is entirely at home in Mr. Gordon's house- hold, enters informally through the open window, Mr. Gordon How do you do, Rector? Mrs. Gordon Good morning. Rector. The Rector Good morning, Mrs. Gordon. Good morning, my dear Warden. He catches sight of Philip, — his face changes — his voice freezes. How do you do? 122 IN THE VANGUARD [act m Mr. Gordon I'll get my hat. Exit Mr, Gordon. The Rector To Mrs. Gordon. This is a very sad occasion. Philip Irritated. Is it a funeral? The Rector Pompously. Yes, my Son, it is the burial of your Father's and Mother's hopes. Philip Perhaps it would be well for you to read the Service for Malefactors over me. Doctor. Mrs. Gordon Horrified. Why, Philip! The Rector Don't jest, young man. You have brought trouble enough to this house; the affair is very sad. ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 123 Mr. Gordon Calling from without. Rector! The Rector Good-bye, Mrs. Gordon. Philip, you may come to my study this afternoon — I will read you a ser- mon that I wrote upon the subject after I saw your letter to your Father. Come at three-thirty. Philip Thank you, but I have an engagement. The Rector Then come when you can — I will be your friend. "I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of Israel." Good-bye, Mrs. Gordon. Exit the Rector. Philip Turning eagerly to his Mother. Mother, has a letter come for me? Mrs. Gordon No, my Son. Laying a hand upon his arm. Philip, I am glad your Grandfather did not live to see this day. 124 IN THE VANGUARD [act in Philip Distressed. Mother! You, too! Mrs. Gordon 1 do not know what you mean, Philip! I have tried to be very kind. Philip Kind, yes — but — Mrs. Gordon You surely can't expect me to be proud of you. Philip Mother, I want to talk to you. Mrs. Gordon Now don't talk, Philip, you will only get us both upset. Philip But I must tell you my thought. ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD 125 Mrs. Gordon In a sweet but obstinate voice. You told it all in the letter, and it did not con- vince your Father. Philip But Father is not you. Mrs Gordon Conclusively. What your Father and the Rector say cannot be wrong. Philip Impatiently. Mother, how mediaeval you are! Mrs. Gordon With air of great forbearance. Philip, please be respectful. I have borne a great deal for you. Philip Repenting of his impatience^ taking her hand and kissing it reverently. I did not mean to be disrespectful, Mother. Of course you are mediaeval because you look like a 126 IN THE VANGUARD [act in lovely old Florentine picture. But, dear Mother, won't you please think for yourself? Mrs. Gordon Sweetly. I do think for myself, my Son. I think what your Father thinks. Philip I should rather you would turn me out of the house than — Mrs. Goiux)n Interrupting. You know, Philip, I would not turn you out of the house for anything; not even if you had committed murder. Philip I have. Mrs. Gordon Startled. What, PhiKp? Philip Committed murder. ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD 127 Mrs. Gordon Turning pale. What do you mean? Philip I have killed men — Mrs. Gordon In a tone of horror, PhiUp! Philip In batde. Mrs. Gordon Looking mmh relieved. What a turn you gave me! I thought you meant you had actually murdered; I do not know what to expect from you these days. Philip I do mean just that. Killing is killing — is it not? Wherever it is done. Mrs. Gordon Mercy, no; that's very different. 128 IN THE VANGUARD [act ra Philip In what way is it different? Mrs. Gordon it's different — because — it's different. Philip 1 am convinced it is the very same; that is why I left the army; intent is the basis of crime. Many a man is called a murderer who did not really in- tend to kill, but every man I killed, I killed with deliberate aim and intent. Mrs. Gordon How you talk! Philip It's a fact; a dying man showed it to me, Mrs. Gordon Was he one of our soldiers? Philip No, he was an enemy. ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 129 Mrs. Gordon Sweetly. And you shot him? Well, I must say I'm glad you killed one of the villains, anyway, before you came home ! But there is no use practising arguments on me, now, Philip, as you used to when you were little, about "intent" and "basis of crime'/ and all that lawyer talk, you won't need it any longer. You will have to give up the law, no one will take you; even Mrs. Crimmins told Mary Jane that her husband won't have you — and he is only a cheap lawyer. Philip Bitterly. I might break stone. Mrs. Gordon You never could. You would be more apt to break your back. Philip Please let me finish what I started to say to you a moment ago. Mother! I should rather you turned me out of the house feeling I was right, than be kind to me feeling I was wrong. 130 IN THE VANGUARD [act m Mrs. Gordon How can wrong be right? Philip A trifle impatiently. Mother, have you not even a sense of humour? Mrs. Gordon Reproachfully. Philip, you don't mean to say you think this sad business is funny, do you? Philip Yes, I think it actually begins to be funny. Ee throws hack his head and laughs Utterly, Mrs. Gordon Patting his arm. There, there, now, my Boy, you are not yourself! Your laugh hasn't the old merry ring. Philip Bitterly, Hasn't it — really? How strange! ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 131 Mrs. Gordon In a coaxing tone as though he were an infant. There! There! You are tired. FU go to make some tea and toast for you; just the kind of toast you like, crisp and brown. Philip Listlessly. Thank you, Mother! You are very kind. Mrs. Gordon goes to the door. Philip runs after her and lays a detaining hand upon her arm. Mother, are you sure there is no letter for me? Mrs. Gordon I have told you there is no letter. Who would write to you now? Philip I was expecting an answer to a letter I wrote some time ago. Mrs. Gordon You must not expect answers after what you have done. With the sudden intuition of the Mother. You expected it from one of the girls! — that 132 IN THE VANGUARD [act hi Elsa-girl, perhaps — don't you know they are all down on you, now, every one of them? Philip Poignantly. I presume they are. Mrs. Gordon You ought to hear them talk, Mary Jane says. Catching the look in his eyes, Mrs. Gordon is sorry for him; she pats his hand. There, now, my Boy, don't worry; of course you will never be able to hold up your head in this town again. We are disgraced, as your Father says, but don't worry, my Boy, don't worry! Philip Bitterly. O no, I will not worry. Exit Mrs, Gordon. Philip laughs a mocking laugh. If I were a woman I should cry; but a man's laugh- ter is Salter than a woman's tears. His laughter ceases — he is silent for a moment. My God! It is worse even than I thought it could be — much worse — ACT III] IN THE VANGUARD 133 Be leans his head upon his hands. I cannot bear it — I cannot bear it. A light step is heard in the corridor. Philip raises his headj the pupils of his eyes and his nostrils dilate, Elsa From the corridor. May I come in? Your Mother said I might. Elsa enters radiant and joyous. Philip Amazement and delight mingling in his voice. Elsa! Elsa I could not meet you before all those girls — I simply could not. {Exultingly.) I ran away, and came here — I wanted to see you alone to tell you I have found my Hero, Philip, at last — I have found my Hero! Philip Making a mighty efort to control his emotion. I — I hope you will be happy. Elsa In a ringing tone. Ah, yes, I shall be happy — very happy! 134 IN THE VANGUARD [act in Philip Stiffly. I congratulate you. Elsa Coming closer, Philip, don't you love me any more? Philip Love you! — my God! Elsa Fascinatingly. But I do not think you are very polite; here I come — without waiting for an invitation — the first to do homage to my Hero — and he is as cold as Alpine snow. Philip In a bewildered, dazed way. Your Hero? — /.? Elsa Certainly! — You! A Hero is one who does the hardest thing and you have done the hardest thing, Philip — the very hardest! ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 135 Philip Taking her in his arms, Elsa. There is a long silence, Philip Brokenly. I am not worthy. Elsa Decidedly. You are worthy of all things — You are a Hero. Philip Tenderly. Ah! No — I am only a struggling man, who sees a coming light that all the world will some day see. Elsa A look as of a white flame comes into her eyes; her manner is that of a prophetess. All the world will some day see — and that day is not far off! Philip Greatly surprised. You believe that? 136 IN THE VANGUARD [act m Elsa I know it! I have changed — thank God — I have changed! Philip, my Love, I have something very wonderful to tell you! With sweet dignity she takes his hand and leads him to a settle; she takes of her hat and throws it from her; then she kneels upon the floor before him and clasps hath hands upon his knee. That night you were on the battle-field, keeping your vigil beside the dead, I, too, kept a vigil. It was the same night — I compared the dates when I received your letter — your beautiful letter! I cannot explain what happened — I cannot under- stand it — but I dare not deny it! If we receive wireless messages from across the sea, why may we not receive a wireless message from the stars? Why may we not receive it from beyond the stars? I will tell you the facts exactly as they happened. I went to sleep that night thinking of you; Minnie had had a letter from Jack that afternoon; and she told me what fine things he said of you, of your bravery and of your promotion to Lieu- tenant; — you know Jack's amusing way of put- ting things — I laughed in the darkness — and then I feU asleep. ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 137 Suddenly I was awakened by a call — I thought it was your voice, calling Elsa, Elsa. I was fright- ened — O so frightened — I jumped up and ran to the window — it was dark; there were clouds in the sky — I knelt at the window, looking out into the night; and then, again I heard the voice — and I knew it was not yours: it was deep and terrible; it sounded like a bell tolling across meas- ureless waters — but every word was clear, dis- tinct. "Woe, woe," cried the voice; "woe unto those who break the bonds of Brotherhood; woe tmto those who lay waste the pleasant places of the earth; woe unto those who fan the powers of enmity and hate; woe unto those who have called false things true, cruel things brave, and barbar- ous things of good report." Philip, I was so frightened! Philip Tenderly laying Us hand upon her head. Dear Heart. Elba Then, all was still. And as I knelt there, it was just as you said in your letter — It was as though a window opened in my mind; — I seemed to see rivers of blood, hideous masses of horror, to hear 138 IN THE VANGUARD [act in the piteous cries of women and children and the moans and curses of those who died in the lust of battle. I remembered how I had thought only of the gorgeous surface show that covered the ghastly reality ; at last, I saw the truth. I knew — I under- stood — and I was ashamed. I shuddered as I knelt there — I thought I could not bear it. Eer voice breaks — she is quiet for a moment — Philip holds the pregnant silence; he does not intrude upon it with a word or with a touch. Suddenly, the clouds lifted, the morning star rose clear and beautiful, the dawn broke, and the rosy light came over the hills. Then, another voice — melodious, musical — spoke these words — "Fear not! Behold, a new order is dawning upon the earth. Wars shall cease. Peace shall knit the world together in a bond of common Brotherhood." PHTLiP With deep emotion. My Beloved! Elba I have told no one, for they would not understand — perhaps they would not believe — but I longed ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 139 to tell you — I began a letter — I began twenty — but I could not write — it was too sacred. As I was wondering how I could write it, I received your letter. When I read that — O Philip! — Then I knew the message had been sent to pre- pare me to be your mate ! The new order is dawn- ing upon the earth — and you are in the vanguard! Philip We are together! He kisses her with exaltation, Elsa Radiantly. And now, together, side by side, we will watch for the Morning. A shadow comes over Philip's face, Elsa, seeing it, draws nearer to him, Elsa What is it, Philip? Philip Dejectedly, Elsa, we must wait. Elsa Wait! For what? I40 IN THl^^ VANGUARD [act m Philip Until I may claim you. Elsa Enchantingly. Here I am, Philip. Philip Taking her hand. I must be able to take care of you — I must find something to do. I am penniless. Elba What do I care for money? Philip Nothing — therefore I must care for it for you. I must find employment. No one will have me, here; I must go away. I may have to break stone or split wood. Elsa Putting her arms about him. Where you go, I will go, your stone shall be my stone, and your wood shall be my wood. I will — ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD 141 There is a knock at the door; they starts rise and move apart. Enter Mr, Greart. Mr. Greart Cordially, Your Mother told me to come in. I never had the honour of being in this house before. Philip Going towards him welcomingly. The honour is ours, Sir. Mr. Greart Grasping Philips s hand. Welcome home! Turning to Elsa, You got the start of me, my fair Atlanta; I had hoped to be the first to welcome home this young soldier; he used to be one of my boys, you know. Philip Greatly embarrassed. Mr. Greart, I am not a soldier any longer — I — I — Mr. Greart Oh! I know all about that — I saw your letter 142 IN THE VANGUARD [act m to Stickley. You don't think I mean that kind of a soldier, do you? I mean a Soldier of the Durable. Seeing the questioning look in Philips s eyes and the response in Elsa^s, Can't stop, now, to explain what I mean by a Soldier of the Durable — Elsa understands. I have a matter of business I wish to settle, at once, without delay. Taking up her hat. Good-bye. Elsa Mr. Greart No, stay, Elsa — it isn't private. It is only that I wish this young man to take charge of my legal affairs. Will you. Sir? Pmup In a tone of amazement. Mr. Greart — Mr. Greart I hope you will do me that favour. You can name your own price — anything — anything you please — if you will only get me out of the clutches of Stickley and Stowett. I am sick to death of their ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 143 dreary demurrers, their tiresome red tape, their everlasting quibbles, and their fussy fidgets. I want a man with logic and despatch; one who treats the Law like a live thing, to clear the way, not block it. Philip Abashed. Mr. Greart — if I could — Mr. Greart Oh! You can all right. As I said, I saw your long letter to Stickley, setting forth the reasons why you left the army. By Gad, it was logical! Logical and concise — not a word too much; no, nor a word too little. You are the man I want. Philip Thank you, Sir. Mr. Greart I won't stand in your way; later you can take a wider sweep. In fact, my friend Vandeveer, in the city, tells me he will be looking for a new partner next year. 144 IN THE VANGUARD [act in Philip In a tone of amazement, Vandeveer! Mr. Greart Yes, that is a berth! Isn't it? You will be all right with him. So will he with you. I advised him for his own good. But I wish you, first. May I coimt on you? Philip With dignity and modesty. I will do all I can, Sir: I am very grateful. Elsa Taking Mr. Grearfs hand. You dear! Mr. Greart There, there, Elsa. Elsa B&witchingly. You will have to take me, too — because — I — we — ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 145 Mr. Greart Ah! Atlanta, I am not as dull as I look. I took that into account; but, let me tell you, if I wasn't an old greyhead I shouldn't take you by proxy. That young man would have to look out for him- self. Elba Bending and kissing Mr, Grearfs hand. There is a little piece of me that v\dll always belong to you — just only to you — always, always. Mr, Greart lays his hand on Elsa^s head. Elsa Mr, Greart, I was wrong — You are right: War is wicked. Mr. Greart I had no fear for you. I knew you would change your point of view the moment you allowed your logical mind to think! That, you had never really done. You took the symbol for the substance, the livery for the life! Through the open window the boys are heard, singing as they pass. 146 m THE VANGUARD [act m The Boys Singing. Get your gun, get your gun, And shoot them every one. Let them fly, let them die, Let them perish as they run. Get your gun, get your gun, go and get your gun! Mr. Greart Indignantly. That is the way our boys' morals are stunted and blimted. It is abominable! Unspeakable! War is Hell. Even our generals admit that — but they think that when war is over, the Hell is ended. They forget that the miasma of Hell spreads over the country and taints the Kttle children, affecting them for life. How long, O Lord — how long will it take men to see that two and two make four? Philip Perhaps they must wait until they have a Vision, as I had. Elsa Or until they hear a Voice of Prophecy, as I did. ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 147 Mr. Greart Not at all. All they have to do is to think to the root of the matter. I am not given to the modern superstition. I never had a revelation in my life nor heard a voice that wasn't human; and as for prophecy! Each man is the prophet of his own Destiny. No, it is a simple question of logic, of public economy, of common sense, of mathe- matics, of two and two making four. Philip I see that, also, now. Mr. Greart Moreover, War is evil because it breaks the Su- preme Law of the Universe, — Philip Questioningly. The Supreme Law of the Universe? Mr. Greart The Law of Harmony — that is the Supreme Law. To break the Law of Harmony is the un- pardonable sin. 148 IN THE VANGUARD [act m Elsa Looking archly up at Mr, Greart. And Love? — Mr. Greart With memory in his eyes. Love is the fulfilling of the Law. Thel oUowing pages are advertisements of The Macmillan Standard Library The Macmillan Fiction Library The Macmillan Juvenile Library THE MACMILLAN STANDARD LIBRARY This series has taken its place as one of the most important popular- priced editions. The " Library " includes only those books which have been put to the test of public opinion and have not been found wanting, — books, in other words, which have come to be regarded as standards in the fields of knowledge, — literature, religion, biography, history, politics, art, economics, sports, sociology, and belles lettres. Together they make the most complete and authoritative works on the several subjects. Each volume, cloth, 12mo, 50 cents net; postage, 10 cents extra Addams — The Spirit of Youth and the City Streets. By Jane Addams. " Shows such sanity, such breadth and tolerance of mind, and such penetration into the inner meanings of outward phenomena as to make it a book which no one can afford to miss." — New York Times. Addams — A New Conscience and An Ancient Evil. By Jane Addams. " A clear, sane, and frank discussion of a problem in civilized society of the greatest importance." Bailey — The Country Life Movement in the United States. By L. H. Bailey. "... clearly thought out, admirably written, and always stimu- lating in its generalization and in the perspectives it opens." — Philadelphia Press. Bailey and Hunn — The Practical Garden Book. By L. H. Bailey AND C. E. HUNN. " Presents only those facts that have been proved by experience, and which are most capable of application on the farm." — Los Angeles Express. Campbell — The New Theology. By R. J. Campbell. " A fine contribution to the better thought of our times written in the spirit of the Master." — St. Paul Dispatch. Clark — The Care of a House. By T. M. Clark. " If the average man knew one-ninth of what Mr. Clark tells him in this book, he would be able to save money every year on repairs, etc." — Chicago Tribune. 3 Conyngton — How to Help: A Manual of Practical Charity. By Mary Conyngton. " An exceedingly comprehensive work with chapters on the home- less man and woman, care of needy families, and the discussions of the problems of child labor." Coolidge — The United States as a World Power. By Archibald Gary Coolidge. " A work of real distinction . . . which moves the reader to thought." — The Nation. Croly^ — The Promise of American Life. By Herbert Croly. " The most profound and illuminating study of our national conditions which has appeared in many years." — Theodore Roosevelt. Devine — Misery and Its Causes. By Edward T. Devine. " One rarely comes across a book so rich in every page, yet so sound, so logical, and thorough." — Chicago Tribune. Earle — Home Life in Colonial Days. By Alice Morse Earle. 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" A life of Lincoln that has never been surpassed in vividness, compactness, and homelike reality." — Chicago Tribune. Haultain — The Mystery of Golf. By Arnold Haultain. " It is more than a golf book. There is interwoven with it a play of mild philosophy and of pointed wit." — Boston Globe. 4 Hearn — Japan: An Attempt at Interpretation. By Lafcadio Hearn. " A thousand books have been written about Japan, but this one is one of the rarely precious volumes which opens the door to an intimate acquaintance with the wonderful people who command the attention of the world to-day." — Boston Herald. Hillis — The Quest of Happiness. By Rev. Newell Dwight HiLLIS. " Its whole tone and spirit is of a sane, healthy optimism." — Phila- delphia Telegraph. Hillquit — Socialism in Theory and Practice. By Morris Hill quit. " An interesting historical sketch of the movement." — Newark Evening News. Hodges — Everyman's Religion. By George Hodges. " Religion to-day is preeminently ethical and social, and such is the religion so ably and attractively set forth in these pages." — Boston Herald. Home — David Livingstone. By Silvester C. Horne. The centenary edition of this popular work, A clear, simple, narrative biography of the great missionary, explorer, and scientist. Hunter — Poverty. By Robert Hunter. " Mr. Hunter's book is at once sympathetic and scientific. He brings to the task a store of practical experience in settlement work gathered in many parts of the country." — Boston Transcript. Hunter — Socialists at Work. By Robert Hunter. " A vivid, running characterization of the foremost personalities in the Socialist movement throughout the world." — Review of Reviews. Jefferson — The Building of the Church. By Charles E. Jefferson. " A book that should be read by every minister." King — The Ethics of Jesus. By Henry Churchill King. " I know no other study of the ethical teaching of Jesus so scholarly* so careful, clear, and compact as this." — G. H. Palmer, Harvard University. King — The Laws of Friendship — Human and Divine. By Henry Churchill King. " This book is full of sermon themes and thought-inspiring sen- tences worthy of being made mottoes for conduct." — Chicago Tribune. 5 King — Rational Living. By Henry Churchill King. " An able conspectus of modern psychological investigation, viewed from the Christian standpoint." — Philadelphia Public Ledger. London — The War of the Classes. By Jack London. " Mr, London's book is thoroughly interesting, and his point of view is very different from that of the closest theorist." — Springfield Republican. London — Revolution and Other Essays. By Jack London. " Vigorous, socialistic essays, animating and insistent." Lyon — How to Keep Bees for Profit. By Everett D. Lyon. " A book which gives an insight into the life history of the bee family, as well as telling the novice how to start an apiary and care for it." — Country Life in America. McLennan — A Manual of Practical Farming. By John McLennan. " The author has placed before the reader in the simplest terms a means of assistance in the ordinary problems of farming." — National Nurseryman. Mabie — William Shakespeare: Poet, Dramatist, and Man. By Hamilton W. Mabie. " It is rather an interpretation than a record." — Chicago Standard, Mahafify — Rambles and Studies in Greece. By J. P. Mahaffy. " To the intelligent traveler and lover of Greece this volume will prove a most sympathetic guide and companion." Mathews — The Church and the Changing Order. By Shailer Mathews. " The book throughout is characterized by good sense and restraint ... A notable book and one that every Christian may read with profit." — The Living Church. Mathews — The Gospel and the Modem Man. By Shailer Mathews. " A succinct statement of the essentials of the New Testament." — Service. Nearing — Wages in the United States. By Scott Nearing. " The book is valuable for anybody interested in the main question of the day — the labor question." Patten — The Social Basis of Religion. By Simon N. Patten. " A work of substantial value." — Continent, 6 Peabody — The Approach to the Social Question. By Francis Greenwood Peabody. " This book is at once the most delightful, persuasive, and saga- cious contribution to the subject." — Louisville Courier- Journal. Pierce — The Tariff and the Trusts. By Franklin Pierce. " An excellent campaign document for a non-protectionist." — Independent. Rauschenbusch — Christianity and the Social Crisis. By Walter Rauschenbusch. " It is a book to like, to learn from, and to be charmed with." — New York Times. Riis — The Making of an American. By Jacob Riis. " Its romance and vivid incident make it as varied and delightful as any romance." — Publisher's Weekly. Riis — Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen. By Jacob Riis. " A refreshing and stimulating picture." — New York Tribune. Ryan — A Living Wage; Its Ethical and Economic Aspects. By Rev. J. A. Ryan. " The most judicious and balanced discussion at the disposal of the general reader." — World To-day. Scott — Increasing Human Efficiency in Business. By Walter Dill Scott. " An important contribution to the literature of business psy- chology." — The American Banker. St. Maur — The Earth's Bounty. By Kate V. St. Maur. " Practical ideas about the farm and garden." St. Maur — A Self-supporting Home. By Kate V. St. Maur. " Each chapter is the detailed account of all the work necessary for one month — in the vegetable garden, among the small fruits, with the fowls, guineas, rabbits, and in every branch of husbandry to be met with on the small farm." — Louisville Courier- Journal. Sherman — What is Shakespeare? By L. A. Sherman. " Emphatically a work without which the library of the Shake- speare student will be incomplete." — Daily Telegram. Sidgwick — Home Life in Germany. By A. Sidgwick. "A vivid picture of social life and customs in Germany to-day." Simons — Social Forces in American History. By A. W. Simons. " A forceful interpretation of events in the light of economics." 7 Smith — The Spirit of American Govermnent. By J. Allen Smith. " Not since Bryce's ' American Commonwealth ' has a book been produced which deals so searchingly with American political in- stitutions and their history." — New York Evening Telegram. Spargo — Socialism. By John Spargo. " One of the ablest expositions of Socialism that has ever been written." — New York Evening Call. Tarbell — History of Greek Art. By T. B. Tarbell. " A sympathetic and understanding conception of the golden age of art." Trask — In the Vanguard. By Katrina Trask. " Katrina Trask has written a book — in many respects a won- derful book — a story that should take its place among the classics." — Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Valentine - How to Keep Hens for Profit. By C. S. Valentine. " Beginners and seasoned poultrymen will find in it much of value." — Chicago Tribune. Van Dyke — The Gospel for a World of Sin. By Henry Van Dyke. " One of the basic books of true Christian thought of to-day and of all times." — Boston Courier. Van Dyke — The Spirit of America. By Henry Van Dyke. " Undoubtedly the most notable interpretation in years of the real America. It compares favorably with Bryce's ' American Com- monwealth.' " — Philadelphia Press. Veblen — The Theory of the Leisure Class. By Thorstein B. Veblen. " The most valuable recent contribution to the elucidation of this subject." — London Times. Vedder — Socialism and the Ethics of Jesus. By Henry C. Vedder. " A timely discussion of a popular theme." — New York Post. Walling — Socialism as it Is. By William English Walling. "... the best book on Socialism by any American, if not the best book on Socialism in the English language." — Boston Herald. Wells — New Worlds for Old. By H. G. Wells. " As a presentation of Socialistic thought as it is working to-day, this is the most judicious and balanced discussion at the disposal of the general reader." — World To-day. 8 Weyl — The New Democracy. By Walter E. Weyl. " The best and most comprehensive survey of the general social and political status and prospects that has been published of late years." White — The Old Order Changeth. By William Allen White. *' The present status of society in America. An excellent antidote to the pessimism of modern writers on our social system." — Baltimore Sun. AN IMPORTANT ADDITION TO THE MACMILLAN FICTION LIBRARY THE WAVERLEY NOVELS. By Sir Walter Scott THE PORTRAIT EDITION The authentic edition of Scott revised from the interleaved set of the Waverley Novels in which Sir Walter Scott noted corrections and improvements almost to the day of his death. The present edition has been collated with this set, and many inaccuracies, some of them ludicrous, corrected. The Portrait Edition is printed in clear, easy type on a high grade of paper, each volume with colored frontispiece, making it by far the best cheap edition of the Waverley Novels on the market. Each volume, decorated cloth, i2mo, 50 cents per volume Each volume with colored frontispiece Waverley The Fortunes of Nigel Guy Mannering Peveril of the Peak The Antiquary Quentin Durward Rob Roy St. Ronan's Well Old Mortality Redgauntlet Montrose, and Black Dwarf The Betrothed, etc. The Heart of Midlothian The Talisman The Bride of Lammermoor Woodstock IvANHOE The Fair Maid of Perth The Monastery Anne of Geierstein The Abbott Count Robert of Paris Kenil worth The Surgeon's Daughter The Pirate Complete Sets, twenty-five volumes, $12.50 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY PnbliBben 64-66 PUth Avenue New York THE MACMILLAN FICTION LIBRARY A new and important series of some of the best popular novels which have been published in recent years. These successful books are now made available at a popular price in response to the insistent demand for cheaper editions. Each volume, cloth, 12mo, SO cents net; postage, 10 cents extra Allen — A Kentucky Cardinal. By James Lane Allen. " A narrative, told with naive simplicity, of how a man who was devoted to his fruits and flowers and birds came to fall in love with a fair neighbor." — New York Tribune. Allen — The Reign of Law. A Tale of the Kentucky Hempfields. By James Lane Allen. " Mr. Allen has style as original and almost as perfectly finished as Hawthorne's. . . . And rich in the qualities that are lacking in so many novels of the period." — San Francisco Chronicle. Atherton — Patience Sparhawk. By Gertrude Atherton. " One of the most interesting works of the foremost American novelist." Child — Jim Hands. By Richard Washburn Child. " A big, simple, leisurely moving chronicle of life. Commands the profoundest respect and admiration. Jim is a real man, sound and fine." — Daily News. Crawford — The Heart of Rome. By Marion Crawford. " A story of underground mystery." Crawford — Fair Margaret: A Portrait. By Marion Crawford. " A story of modern life in Italy, visualizing the country and its people, and warm with the red blood of romance and melodrama." — Boston Transcript. Davis — A Friend of Caesar. By William Stearns Davis. " There are many incidents so vivid, so brilliant, that they fix them- selves in the memory." — Nancy Huston Banks in The Bookman. Drummond — The Justice of the King. By Hamilton Drummond. " Read the story for the sake of the living, breathing people, the adventures, but most for the sake of the boy who served love and the King." — Chicago Record-Herald. ~ lO Elizabeth and Her German Garden. " It is full of nature in many phases — of breeze and sunshine, of the glory of the land, and the sheer joy of living." — New York Times. Gale — Loves of Pelleas and Etarre. By Zona Gale. "... full of fresh feeling and grace of style, a draught from the fountain of youth." — Outlook. Herrick — The Common Lot. By Robert Herrick. " A story of present-day life, intensely real in its picture of a young architect whose ideals in the beginning were, at their highest, aesthetic rather than spiritual. It is an unusual novel of great interest." London — Adventure. By Jack London. " No reader of Jack London's stories need be told that this abounds with romantic and dramatic incident." — Los Angeles Tribune. London — Burning Daj'^light. By Jack London, " Jack London has outdone himself in ' Burning Daylight.' " — The Springfield Union. Loti — Disenchanted. By Pierre Loti. " It gives a more graphic picture of the life of the rich Turkish women of to-day than anything that has ever been written." — Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Lucas — Mr. Ingleside. By E. V. Lucas. " He displays himself as an intellectual and amusing observer of life's foibles with a hero characterized by inimitable kindness and humor." — The Independent. Mason — The Four Feathers. By A. E. W. Mason. " ' The Four Feathers ' is a first-rate story, with more legitimate thrills than any novel we have read in a long time." — New York Press. Norris — Mother. By Kathleen Norris. " Worth its weight in gold." — Catholic Columbian. Ozenham — The Long Road. By John Oxenham. "'The Long Road' is a tragic, heart-gripping story of Russian political and social conditions." — The Craftsman. Pryor — The Colonel's Story. By Mrs. Roger A. Pryor. " The story is one in which the spirit of the Old South figures largely; adventure and romance have their play and carry the plot to a satisfying end." II Remington — Ermine of the Yellowstone. By John Remington. " A very original and remarkable novel wonderful in its vigor and freshness." Roberts — Kings in Exile. By Charles G. D. Roberts. " The author catches the spirit of forest and sea life, and the reader comes to have a personal love and knowledge of our animal friends." — Boston Globe. Robins — The Convert. By Elizabeth Robins. " ' The Convert ' devotes itself to the exploitation of the recent suffragist movement in England. It is a book not easily forgotten by any thoughtful reader." — Chicago Evening Post. Robins — A Dark Lantern. By Elizabeth Robins. A powerful and striking novel, English in scene, which takes an essentially modern view of society and of certain dramatic situations. Ward — The History of David Grieve. By Mrs. Humphrey Ward. " A perfect picture of life, remarkable for its humor and extraor- dinary success at character analysis." THE MACMILLAN JUVENILE LIBRARY This collection of juvenile books contains works of standard quality, on a variety of subjects — history, biography, fiction, science, and poetry — carefully chosen to meet the needs and interests of both boys and girls. Each volume, cloth, 12mo, SO cents net; postage, 10 cents extra Altsheler — The Horsemen of the Plains. By Joseph A. Alt- sheler. " A story of the West, of Indians, of scouts, trappers, fur traders, and, in short, of everything that is dear to the imagination of a healthy American boy." — New York Sun. Bacon — While Caroline Was Growing. By Josephine Daskam Bacon. " Only a genuine lover of children, and a keenly sympathetic observer of human nature, could have given us this book." — Boston Herald. Carroll — Alice's Adventures, and Through the Looking Glass. By Lewis Carroll. " One of the immortal books for children." Dix — A Little Captive Lad. By Marie Beulah Dix. " The human interest is strong, and children are sure to like it." — Washington Times. Greene — Pickett's Gap. By Homer Greene. " The story presents a picture of truth and honor that cannot fail to have a vivid impression upon the reader." — Toledo Blade. Lucas — Slowcoach. By E. V. Lucas. " The record of an English family's coaching tour in a great old- fashioned wagon. A charming narrative, as quaint and original as its name." — Booknews Monthly. Mabie — Book of Christmas. By H. W. Mabie. " A beautiful collection of Christmas verse and prose in which all the old favorites will be found in an artistic setting." — The St. Louis Mirror. Major — The Bears of Blue River. By Charles Major. " An exciting story with all the thrills the title implies." Major — Uncle Tom Andy Bill. By Charles Major. " A stirring story full of bears, Indians, and hidden treasures." — Cleveland Leader. Nesbit — The Railway Children. By E. Nesbit. " A delightful story revealing the author's intimate knowledge of juvenile ways." — The Nation. Whyte — The Story Book Girls. By Christina G. Whyte. " A book that all girls will read with delight — a sweet, wholesome story of girl life." Wright — Dream Fox Story Book. By Mabel Osgood Wright. " The whole book is delicious with its wise and kindly humor, its just perspective of the true value of things." Wright — Aunt Jimmy's Will. By Mabel Osgood Wright. 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