"You make so much of little things."
"Is it a little thing to sacrifice our appetites?"
"I don't think it is a very big thing." The office bell rang, and Hilda rose. "If I felt as you do I should sacrifice something more than things to eat. I'd go over there and nurse the wounded. I could be of real service. But you couldn't. With all your big ideas of patriotism you couldn't do one single practical thing."
It was true, and Jean knew that it was true, but she fired one more shot. "Then why don't you go?" she demanded fiercely.
"I may," Hilda said slowly. "I have been thinking about it. I haven't made up my mind."
Dr. McKenzie glanced at her in surprise. "I didn't dream you felt that way."
"I don't think I do mean it in the way you mean. I should go because there was something worth doing—not as a grandstand play."
She went out of the room. Jean stared after her.
The Doctor laughed. "She got you there, girlie."
"Yes, she did. Do you really think she intends to go, Daddy?"