Play the Game!

by Ruth Comfort Mitchell

Red with the wreck of a square that broke;

The gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,

And the regiment blind with dust and smoke:

The River of Death has brimmed his banks;

And England's far and Honor's a name,

But the voice of a school boy rallies the ranks—

Play up! Play up! and—Play the Game!

Honor sat still at the piano. She did not mean to lift her eyes until she could be sure they would not run over. Why did that song always sweep her away so?—from the first moment Stepper had read her the words in the old house on South Figueroa Street, all those years ago? Why had she always the feeling that it had a special meaning for her and for Jimsy—a warning, a challenge? Jimsy came over to stand beside her, comfortably silent, and then, surprisingly, the personage came to stand beside Jimsy.

"I've been wondering," he said, "if you hadn't better come in to see me one day, when we're all back in Los Angeles? You haven't any definite plans for your future, have you?"