"We'll think it over," said Mrs. Sanford.
When they broke silence and began a discussion of the pros and cons it was only to return to silence; for they were merely rehearsing the heads of trains of thought that occurred to both of them in a vicious circle. At the supper table Jane realised that something was wrong, and poignantly wrong.
"If it's about Phil," she blurted out, "I guess I'm entitled to know!"
When they told her, she said:
"Against that thieving Kaiser and for them poor little Belgiums! He just couldn't help it! That's Phil all over. But it ain't the United States' war, it's Europe's; and all I've got to say is that maybe he'll never come back. He'll just be killed and buried over in them furrin parts."
"We've thought of that, Jane," replied Mrs. Sanford.
"You're going to let him do it!" gasped Jane. "He won't, though, if you say not."
"Buried in furrin parts!" Jane repeated in fresh horror. This was the most awful aspect of it to her. If one insisted on being killed it ought to be at home, where he could be laid in the family plot.
After supper the Doctor and Mrs. Sanford went into the study, though it was early September and hot. There they sat silent as the flow of still waters which run deep.
"I leave it to you and to him," she said quietly, after a time.