"Yes," said Phœbe, laughing. "But how is everybody?"
"All pretty good. But a lot of boys from round here went a'ready to enlist. I ain't for war, but I guess it has to come sometimes. But it's hard for them that has boys."
"David?" Phœbe asked. "Has he gone?"
"Ach, no, not him. He's got his mom to take care of."
Phœbe remembered Virginia's words, "We can't get away from it, we're in it." The thought of them made her feel depressed. "I'm going to forget the war," she thought after a moment, "I'm going to forget it for to-morrow and have one perfect day in the mountains hunting arbutus."
CHAPTER XXVII
TRAILING ARBUTUS
It was a balmy day in April when Phœbe and David drove over the country roads to the mountains where the trailing arbutus grow.
"Spring o' the year," called the meadow-larks in clear, piercing tones.