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"I have hardly been civil to that German laundress since."
"Good gracious, Delight. Can't you remember that we must love our
enemies?"
"Do you love them? You know perfectly well that the moment you get
on the other side, if you do, you'll be jerking the cross off your
collar and bullying some wretched soldier to give you his gun."
He had a guilty feeling that she was right.
It was February then, and they were sitting in the parish house.
Delight had been filling out Sunday-school reports to parents, an
innovation she detested. For a little while there was only the
scratching of her pen to be heard and an occasional squeal from
the church proper, where the organ was being repaired. The rector
sat back in his chair, his fingertips together, and whistled
noiselessly, a habit of his when he was disturbed. Now and then
he glanced at Delight's bent head.
"My dear," he commented finally.
"Just a minute. That wretched little Simonton girl has been absent
three Sundays out of four.


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