Patsy gave a little laugh.

"Not knowing where Maubeuge is," she remarked, "my only thought is that
something is wrong with the London press bureau. Perhaps the cables got
crossed--or short circuited or something. They don't usually allow the
Germans to win two days in succession."

"Don't interrupt, please," said Beth, earnestly. "This is too important
a matter to be treated lightly. Read us the article, Uncle. I was afraid
Maubeuge would be taken."

Patsy accepted her cousin's rebuke with her accustomed good nature.
Indeed, she listened as intently as Beth to the thrilling account of the
destruction of Maubeuge, and her blue eyes became quite as serious as
the brown ones of her cousin when the tale of dead and wounded was
recounted.

"Isn't it dreadful!" cried Beth, clasping her hands together
impulsively.

"Yes," nodded her uncle, "the horror of it destroys the interest we
naturally feel in any manly struggle for supremacy."

"This great war is no manly struggle," observed Patsy with a toss of her
head. "It is merely wholesale murder by a band of selfish diplomats."

"Tut-tut!" warned Mr. Merrick; "we Americans are supposed to be neutral,
my dear. We must not criticize."

"That does not prevent our sympathizing with the innocent sufferers,