The Press., 1918-04-18

family are newcomers here. we've been here only since my great-grand- father was young man. Most of the best people in town have always lived here; that is, since colonial times. I'm so anxious to belong to the Patriots society,"" she went on to explain; but to do that I must prove descent from an ancestor who fought in the Revolu- tiOn. I've been searching through the old records and family histories. ana thought I'd find one sure: butt wouldn't let any of the people here know it-I don't believe any of my ancestors did fight in the Revolution. You don't know how much it means to me to find that soldier. Those people are so patriotic that they think more of having Revolutionary ancestors than of having money or prominence"
 Tom strengthened himself up under the umbrella. Do you mean to tell me that those people would think all that of some remote, forgotten soldier of '76, when they have soldiers of 1918 real, desh-and- blood, lonesome, heart-sick felIows-right out there on their own bridge; that they"
 ''I know" said the girl almost in a whisper. "They haven't done thing for you boys, but"-thjs more cheer fulIy-''they're talking of having special series of prayer meetings for you."
 Tom stood still and held the girl under the umbrella by the arm, and looked at her in the rain.
 "You can't be like them. Honestly, you must understand, you must know, that men that have been used to human sort of time-dances and harm less fun with nice girls. and just iit- tie show of human concern once in a while-aren't going to be satisfied with that. If the boys of 'T6 came back you wouldn't treat them that way. But these people would. They wouldn't know they were patriots if they saw them. and they would warn their daughters not to speak to them in the streets. But you're not blue-blood; tell me you're not blue-blooded," he commanded.
 They began to walk again. The girl was laughing a little nervouSly.
 "N0, I'm not-that's the trouble. wanted to find that I was, but I can't find any Revolutionary ancestor, and so I can't be blue-blooded. That's the test.''
 There was a silence as they walked on in the rain. Then the girl touched the arm of the soldier at her side ever SO lightly.
 "WouId you care to drop in for sup per at our houseF" she asked. Mother would ne So glad. I'll tell her 1 could not find the soldier of 'T6, but that l have found patriot of 1918. 1 know mother will like you better. Mother is really very human"
 Ten days later something happened in the town by the bridge that sur prised everyone. A dance was given at 1he home of one of the leading citi- zens-not one of the very oldest fam lilies. but still one highly respectable and conservative-and the guests of honor were a dozen or so men in khaki who lived in a tent on the bridge. All she pretty girls were invited, and enough other men to make couples equal. It was an early dance, with 6 late supper following, and at the sup per the leading judge made a little speech about the importance of ap- preciating the work of ''our own Ameri- can patriots right In our midst" in- stead of thinking so much about the patriots who had long gone to rest In the old burying ground.
 A toast, drunk off in grape juice punch, was proposed to "the little tent on the bridge" and a weekly dancing class was organized, with the soldier boys as honorary members, which meant that they would be exempt from dues. And just as the supper was over and the guests were going back into the drawing room for one last dance a "Home, Sweet Home' before they all left-something else happened.
 The daughter of The hOuse-one of the prettiest girls in tOwn-was pre- sented with q bunch of white orange blossoms. which is the conventional way in that small town of announcing an engagement. And the man in khaki who sat beside her rose with her on his arm and bowed to the guests around him, and smiled as if he were the happiest man anywhere in the II. s. A.