It lowered
its voice in passing and made its calls of condolence in dark clothes
and a general air of gloom. Pianos near by were played only with the
windows closed, and even the milkman leaving his bottles walked on
tiptoe and presented his monthly bill solemnly.
So Harvey stopped whistling, rang the bell apologetically, and--faced a
new and vivid Sara Lee, flushed and with shining eyes, but woefully
frightened.
She told him almost at once. He had only reached the dining room of
the Leete house, which he was explaining had a white wainscoting when
she interrupted him. The ladies of the Methodist Church were going to
collect a certain amount each month to support a soup kitchen as near
the Front as possible.
"Good work!" said Harvey heartily. "I suppose they do get hungry, poor
devils. Now about the dining room--"
"Harvey dear," Sara Lee broke in, "I've not finished. I--I'm going
over to run it."
"You are not!"
"But I am! It's all arranged. It's my plan. They've all wanted to do
something besides giving clothes. They send barrels, and they never hear
from them again, and it's hard to keep interested. But with me there,
writing home and telling them, 'To-day we served soup to this man, and
that man, perhaps wounded.
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