off,’ she said, ‘but I told her to wait and see what becomes of him first. Them Russians has such a habit of petering out.’
“The Russians are doing splendidly, however, and they have saved Italy. But even when the daily news of their sweeping advance comes we don’t feel like running up the flag as we used to do. As Gertrude says, Verdun has slain all exultation. We would all feel more like rejoicing if the victories were on the Western front. ‘When will the British strike?’ Gertrude sighed this morning. ‘We have waited so long—so long.’
“Our greatest local event in recent weeks was the route march the county battalion made through the county before it left for overseas. They marched from Charlottetown to Lowbridge, then round the Harbour Head and through the Upper Glen and so down to the St. Mary station. Everybody turned out to see them, except old Aunt Fannie Clow, who is bedridden and Mr. Pryor, who hadn’t been seen out even in church since the night of the Union Prayer Meeting the previous week.
“It was wonderful and heartbreaking to see that battalion marching past. There were young men and middle-aged men in it. There was Laurie MacAllister from over-harbour who is only sixteen but swore he was eighteen, so that he could enlist; and there was Angus Mackenzie, from the Upper Glen who is fifty-five if he is a day and swore he was forty-four. There were two South African veterans from Low-bridge, and the three eighteen-year-old Baxter triplets from Harbour Head. Everybody cheered as they went by, and they cheered Foster Booth, who is forty,
