“I feel that way, too, doctor,” said the superintendent, interpreting the look, not the rebuke. “My twin brother is over there. He’s been wounded over and over again. Oh! how I dreaded his taking part in the next big drive. No need for it now! Will you listen to the whistles and horns--that hooting klaxon. Why! the world’s gone mad. And to think that this baby--a soldier’s child, too--should be born just at the moment, or a few minutes before it, that the word went out to cease firing!” The superintendent wiped her eyes.
“Was ever such a heavenly herald?” breathed the doctor.
“Her mother feels so. She says the child is born for greatness. She has named her already, Peace Europa--Peace Europa Bush.”
“Gosh! Some name! A big contract to fasten upon six pounds and three-quarters of soft pink flesh and gristly bone,” mocked Dr. Lemuel Kemp. “Well! I suppose the heavenly infant will hold an unconscious reception, all day long, of those who are privileged to be admitted--in this Hades of a room.” He sniffed at the hothouse atmosphere of the baby-room--extremely hothouse--in which humanity’s latest buds--seventeen of them, with Europa as the center--were unfolding. “I’ll have to tip that young sister of mine the word to come round and see her. I suppose she’s somewhere out at the heart of the clamor now--in the crowded streets, with the rest of the family--the rest of the world--gone mad over the Armistice being signed. But, oh! she’ll have a fringe of enthusiasm left for the Peace baby,” smilingly. “She has been taking care of a neighbor’s child, two months old, for an hour a day lately; she showed me a pretty flame-colored honor-bead she had received for it.”
“A neat way of gilding the pill of service!” smiled the superintendent.
“Say, rather, of transforming it into a sugar pellet,” was the man’s reply, as the two left the tropical atmosphere of the hospital nursery.
Yes, War was over. Simultaneously with the birth of little Peace the word had gone forth to a hacked and harrowed and weary world to cease firing!
No wonder that the young Day, born with her, had gone mad--outside the hospital--a brimming-over child that could not contain its own happiness; that from shore to shore bells rang, sirens sang, klaxons hooted themselves hoarse--men and women, too--while underneath the wild riot--vociferous glee--tears baptized the dawn in many a home; radiant joy-tears on behalf of those who would come back, through which, like a reflection of the morning-star in ocean, shone the gold star of memory for those who would not!
But the star of service had not set. The wings which had come through the game, undrooping, must be spread anew for tried, if tamer, lights.
And so, as Europa still lay, oiled and shining, teasing the air with her first pin-prick cries--ere yet she was four hours old--there arrived two visitors to see her!