spells and called frequently for her to wait on him in the bedroom at the head of the stairs. And she had been up with the baby a good deal anyhow the night before. So you see why Mrs. Lewis was what is called "cross."
Besides, she was just now facing a new anxiety. When her husband came in from the shop and hung up his hat and she had dished up the potatoes and the family sat down to the evening meal, there was just one subject of conversation. The State of New York was making its preparedness preparation with the military census that was to begin to-morrow, a detailed inventory of man power and possessions. Hitherto for America the war had been over in Europe. Now for the first time it was here for the Lewis family. And other similar supper tables all over the United States were facing it too. "But you couldn't possibly go," the tired woman said across the table.
"I may have to," the man answered.
"Then what'll happen to me and the children?" she returned desperately.
And he didn't know. And she didn't know. Hardly anybody knew. We on this side of the Atlantic are now beginning to find out.
Mr. Lewis was drafted last week. The rent is paid one month ahead. You can see the bottom of the coal bin. There's only half a barrel of flour. And there are seven children to feed. No, there are none of her family nor his that want to adopt any of them as war work. Well, there you are.
