"But I mean—what about your husband's lunch?"
"He goes home," the president said, "and sees after the children when they come in from school—of course I have a maid, you know."
"But doesn't he miss you dreadfully?" asked Mrs. Winters.
"Yes, I think he does, but not any more than the poor fellows in the trenches miss their wives. He is not able to go to the front himself and he is only too glad to leave me free to do all I can."
"But surely some other woman could be found," said Mrs. Winters, "who hasn't got as many family cares as you have."
"They could," said the president, "but they would probably tell you that their husbands like to have them at home—or some day would be stormy and they would 'phone down that 'Teddy' positively refused to let them come out. We have been busy people all our lives and have been accustomed to sacrifice and never feel a bit sorry for it—we've raised our six children and done without many things. It doesn't hurt us as it does the people who have always sat on cushioned seats. The Red Cross Society knows that it is a busy woman who can always find time to do a little more, and I am just as happy as can be doing this."
Mrs. Winters felt the unintentional rebuke in these words, and turned them over in her mind.
One day, three months after this, the Doctor told her that it was quite probable he would not be going overseas at all, for he was having such success recruiting that the major-general thought it advisable to have him go right on with it. "And so, Nettie," he said, "you had better cancel your application to go overseas, for of course, if I do not go, you will not."
For a moment she did not grasp what he meant. He spoke of it so casually. Not go! The thought of her present life of inactivity was never so repulsive. But silence fell upon her and she made no reply.
"We will not know definitely about it for a few weeks," he said, and went on reading.