can for the Cause, on this side of the ocean. But it has seemed
woefully little, when we remember what others are doing. And we
have no son we can send."

Again he cleared his throat and went on with sulky
ungraciousness:

"We both know what you've been driving at for the past five
minutes. And--and we agree. Bruce can go."

"Great!" applauded the guest. "That's fine! He'll be worth his--"

"If you think we're a couple of fools for not doing this more
willingly," went on the Master with savage earnestness, "just
stop to think what it means to a man to give up the dog he loves.
Not to give him up to some one who will assure him a good home,
but to send him over into that hell, where a German bullet or a
shell-fragment or hunger or disease is certain to get him, soon
or late. To think of him lying smashed and helpless, somewhere in
No Man's Land, waiting for death; or caught by the enemy and
eaten! (The Red Cross bulletin says no less than eight thousand
dogs were eaten, in Saxony alone, in 1913, the year BEFORE the
war began.) Or else to be captured and then cut up by some German
vivisector-surgeon in the sacred interests of Science! Oh, we can
bring ourselves to send Bruce over there! But don't expect us to
do it with a good grace. For we can't."

"I--" began the embarrassed guest; but the Mistress chimed in,
her sweet voice not quite steady.