flickered out into darkness. Then she brightened again as her thoughts
took a new turn.

"Well, there's one thing we have to be thankful for," she said
feelingly. "If we can't help to make history, we won't have to learn it,
either. We're past the history part of school. But just think what the
pupils will have to learn in the years to come--and the names of all
those battles that are being fought every day now, and the
unpronounceable names of all those cities in Europe, and all the
different generals. It was hard enough to keep the Civil War generals
straight, and there were only _two_ sets of them--think of having to
remember all the American and English and French and Italian and Russian
ones, to say nothing of the German! Why, it will be such a chore to
study history that the pupils won't have time to study anything else!
People always look at little babies and say how fortunate they are; when
they grow up the war will be over and everything lovely again, but I
always think, 'Poor things, wait until they have to study history!' How
lucky we are to be living through it instead of having to learn it out
of books!"

All the while Sahwah was talking, Hinpoha had been watching with
undisguised interest a man who sat in the seat directly across the aisle
from them, who, with an artist's sketching pad on his knee, was drawing
caricatures with a thick black pencil. Hinpoha, clever artist that she
was herself, took a lively interest in anyone else who could draw, and
from the glimpses she could get of the sketches being made across the
aisle, she recognized the peculiar genius of the artist. She attracted
the attention of the other three, and they too watched in wonder and
with ever-growing interest. The artist finally looked up, saw the four
eager pairs of eyes fastened on him, and nodding in a friendly way,