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bed。 Eva fingered their titles and gave a little gasp。 One of them was
on gardening。
〃Well； of all things！〃 exclaimed Stell。 A book on the war； by an
Englishman。 A detective story of the lurid type that lulls us to sleep。 His
shoes ranged in a careful row in the closet； with a shoe tree in every one of
them。 There was something speaking about them。 They looked so human。
Eva shut the door on them quickly。 Some bottles on the dresser。 A jar
of pomade。 An ointment such as a man uses who is growing bald and is
panic… stricken too late。 An insurance calendar on the wall。 Some
rhubarb…and… soda mixture on the shelf in the bathroom； and a little box of
pepsin tablets。
〃Eats all kinds of things at all hours of the night；〃 Eva said； and
wandered out into the rose…colored front room again with the air of one
who is chagrined at her failure to find what she has sought。 Stell
followed her furtively。
〃Where do you suppose he can be？〃 she demanded。 〃It's〃she
glanced at her wrist〃why； it's after six！〃
And then there was a little click。 The two women sat up； tense。 The
door opened。 Jo came in。 He blinked a little。 The two women in the
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rosy room stood up。
〃WhyEve！ Why； Babe！ Well！ Why didn't you let me know？〃
〃We were just about to leave。 We thought you weren't coming
home。〃
Jo came in slowly。
〃I was in the jam on Michigan； watching the boys go by。〃 He sat
down； heavily。 The light from the window fell on him。 And you saw
that his eyes were red。
He had found himself one of the thousands in the jam on Michigan
Avenue； as he said。 He had a place near the curb； where his big frame
shut off the view of the unfortunates behind him。 He waited with the
placid interest of one who has subscribed to all the funds and societies to
which a prosperous； middle…aged businessman is called upon to subscribe
in war…time。 Then； just as he was about to leave； impatient at the delay；
the crowd had cried； with a queer； dramatic； exultant note in its voice；
〃Here they come！ Here come the boys！〃
Just at that moment two little； futile； frenzied fists began to beat a mad
tattoo on Jo Hertz's broad back。 Jo tried to turn in the crowd； all
indignant resentment。 〃Say； looka here！〃
The little fists kept up their frantic beating and pushing。 And a voice…
…a choked； high little voicecried； 〃Let me by！ I can't see！ You MAN；
you！ You big fat man！ My boy's going byto warand I can't see！ Let
me by！〃
Jo scrooged around； still keeping his place。 He looked down。 And
upturned to him in agonized appeal was the face of Emily。 They stared at
each other for what seemed a long； long time。 It was really only the
fraction of a second。 Then Jo put one great arm firmly around Emily's
waist and swung her around in front of him。 His great bulk protected her。
Emily was clinging to his hand。 She was breathing rapidly； as if she had
been running。 Her eyes were straining up the street。
〃Why； Emily； how in the world！〃
〃I ran away。 Fred didn't want me to come。 He said it would excite
me too much。〃
〃Fred？〃
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〃My husband。 He made me promise to say good…by to Jo at home。〃
〃Jo？〃
〃Jo's my boy。 And he's going to war。 So I ran away。 I had to see
him。 I had to see him go。〃
She was dry…eyed。 Her gaze was straining up the street。
〃Why； sure；〃 said Jo。 〃Of course you want to see him。〃 And then
the crowd gave a great roar。 There came over Jo a feeling of weakness。
He was trembling。 The boys went marching by。
〃There he is；〃 Emily shrilled； above the din。 〃There he is！ There he
is！ There he〃 And waved a futile little hand。 It wasn't so much a
wave as a clutching。 A clutching after something beyond her reach。
〃Which one？ Which one； Emily？〃
〃The handsome one。 The handsome one。〃 Her voice quavered and
died。
Jo put a steady hand on her shoulder。 〃Point him out；〃 he
commanded 〃Show me。〃 And the next instant； 〃Never mind。 I see
him。〃
Somehow； miraculously； he had picked him from among the hundreds。
Had picked him as surely as his own father might have。 It was Emily's
boy。 He was marching by； rather stiffly。 He was nineteen； and fun…
loving； and he had a girl； and he didn't particularly want to go to France
andto go to France。 But more than he had hated going； he had hated
not to go。 So he marched by； looking straight ahead； his jaw set so that his
chin stuck out just a little。 Emily's boy。
Jo looked at him； and his face flushed purple。 His eyes； the hard…
boiled eyes of a Loop…hound； took on the look of a sad old man。 And
suddenly he was no longer Jo； the sport； old J。 Hertz； the gay dog。 He
was Jo Hertz； thirty； in love with life； in love with Emily； and with the
stinging blood of young manhood coursing through his veins。
Another minute and the boy had passed on up the broad streetthe fine；
flag…bedecked streetjust one of a hundred service hats bobbing in
rhythmic motion like sandy waves lapping a shore and flowing on。
Then he disappeared altogether。
Emily was clinging to Jo。 She was mumbling something； over and
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over。 〃I can't。 I can't。 Don't ask me to。 I can't let him go。
Like that。 I can't。〃
Jo said a queer thing。
〃Why； Emily！ We wouldn't have him stay home； would we？ We
wouldn't want him to do anything different； would we？ Not our boy。
I'm glad he enlisted。 I'm proud of him。 So are you glad。〃
Little by little he quieted her。 He took her to the car that was waiting；
a worried chau