of our wars began in April. Why in April, he wondered, when everything seemed less like war then than at any other time of the year. He began to think idly of how many Easter Sundays there must have been just like this one, back, back as far as the Revolution, when women bravely put on their best and toiled up to the church, only to cry in secret behind the pews because there was going to be a war. Why—
His mind was wandering farther and farther from the service. Suddenly it was brought back by a quick touch upon his arm.
“Captain Saulsby is in the doorway,” whispered Sally Shute behind him. “I think he wants you for something.”
There indeed stood the old sailor in the door, looking distressed and uncomfortable and peering about as though in search of some one. He seemed much relieved when he caught Billy’s eye and saw the boy rise to tiptoe out. He put a paper into Billy’s hand as they went down the path together.
“I want that telephoned to the telegraph office at Rockport,” he said. “I have tried to do it myself, but I can’t hear quite well enough to make sure they have got it right, and I don’t
