“Shut up, Demon,” Ty snarled. “You don’t need to start in, too. It’s enough to make—” His harsh cough went shoveling to the bottom of his lungs.

“There’ll be no invasion, mother, no invasion. The Press says—”

“Get up!” shrieked Ty. The mares bounced forward; Demon straightened the reins, muttering and blinking. The carriage wheeled out into the lane. “See over there, Tyler,” his father directed. “They are cutting down the woods on the hills. On Round Top. See?” They heard the light tap of the closing door, and the fresh torrent of Mrs. Fanning’s wails in the hallway. Oh, Gretel, Gretel—

“My dear boy.” The older man plucked at the curly chop-whiskers of his left cheek. “Your mother’s lot is not an easy one. We watchers at the hearthside must keep our hearts buoyed up with hope and prayer. It is a far cry from our little village to the tented—”

Tyler muttered. “She doesn’t have to act like an old fool.” His father stiffened, swallowed, and tightened his jaw. Irene watched the tiny froth of dust which lifted with each upturning of the right-hand front wheel. She heard Cybo sneeze underneath the rear of the carriage. His bell tinkled, tinkled.

They turned east toward the village. “It seems difficult to realize that Pentland Bale is gone,” said Mr. Fanning mildly. “I wonder if Daniel will keep the old house, and live there.”

Irene lifted the little green parasol above her head. She felt a sudden, guilty dampness in the hollows of her palms. She kept looking at the carriage wheel.

“No doubt he will,” Ty was saying. “Especially since he doesn’t appear willing to risk his precious neck down south.”

The woman raised her eyes. “You said that he didn’t believe in war—that it was against his whole philosophy.”

“A lot of people developed that same idea as soon as hostilities commenced.” Tyler chuckled; his eyes seemed to be brighter, unfilmed. There was a hint of color in the skin of his face. “After all, it isn’t such a bad life—the army … Dan Bale is a queer piece, but he’s got an awful determination. Like to have him in my company for a while. Show him a thing or two. He might make a good soldier if he was willing to buckle down to it.”

Irene looked across the fields toward the Bale house. Mrs. Wurke was out at the pump, but Dan wasn’t anywhere in sight.