"Wars are ended in our Western World.

Didn't you know it, grandchild of Vikings?
There are to be no more Lake Champlains, only debates--_n'est ce pas_, Curt ?--very grand debates between gentlemen of the South and gentlemen of the North in Congress assembled----" "_Two_ congresses assembled," said Ailsa calmly, "and the debates will be at long range----" "By magnetic telegraph if you wish, Honey-bell," conceded Celia hastily.

"Oh, we must _not_ begin disputin' about matters that nobody can possibly he'p.

It will all come right; you know it will, don't you, Curt ?" "Yes, I know it, somehow." Silence, fragrance, and darkness, through which rang the distant laugh of a young girl.

And, very, very far away sounds arose in the city, dull, indistinct, lost for moments at a time, then audible again, and always the same sounds, the same monotony, and distant persistence.
"I do believe they're calling an extra," said Ailsa, lifting her head to listen.
Celia listened, too.
"Children shouting at play," she said.
"They _are_ calling an extra, Celia!" "No, little Cassandra, it's only boys skylarking." For a while they remained listening and silent.