Therefore, when they entered church this Sunday morning, neither Jack nor Frank were in a good humor toward each other. Jack felt that, as she was doing all she could in the service of his country, he should have made no unkind criticism of hers. Frank did not think at all, except to wish that Jack would refrain from argument. Certainly a man wished for peace in his own home when it was nowhere else. But it did not occur to Frank that it takes two to keep peace as well as two to make a quarrel; nor did he begin to realize how trying he had been at home during the past few months.

As a matter of fact Frank was spoiled, as many Englishmen and some American men are. He had been an only son who was to inherit the family t.i.tle, and his mother and sisters had always put him first in all things. It was true that when he came to the United States he had fallen in love with Jacqueline Ralston because, for one reason, she did not treat him differently at the beginning of their acquaintance from any cowboy on her ranch. That is, she was perfectly polite to him, when she remembered his existence; but then she was polite to everybody and recognized no social distinctions. She liked her own freedom, allowed other people theirs, and went her way untroubled by the opinion of others.

But, at present--as is often the case with men after they marry--the very things in Jack which had attracted Frank before marriage annoyed him now. He believed she ought to be more influenced by his views. Of course, she ordinarily gave in to his wishes. However, he seldom felt as if she were convinced, but believed she yielded through sheer sweet temper.

Moreover, Frank's irritability continued all day, so that several times after their return home, Jack found herself mortified before Olive and Frieda. Not that she minded so much about Olive, since Olive and Frank had always understood each other. But, as Frieda had announced herself as being disappointed with marriage, Jack did not wish her to think that her own was also a failure.

After their midday luncheon on Sunday it was always Lord and Lady Kent's custom to walk over their estate during the afternoon, visit the stables and see as much of the condition of the place and the people on it as was possible.

This Sunday afternoon Frank arose and started to go on his usual rounds without suggesting that Jack accompany him.

However, she paid no attention to this, but followed him. Outdoors he changed into a better mood.

There were not many horses left in the stables, as most of them were being used by the army. But when Jack and Frank went into the kennels, which adjoined the stables, a dozen great dogs began leaping over them at once.

Frank drew a little aside to watch his wife.

Jack stood in their midst laughing and protesting a little when one big hound stuck its great head, with wide open jaws and lolling tongue, too near her face. Yet she managed to make them all happy and quiet again by patting and stroking each one, or by calling each dog by name.

"You are not afraid of anything in the world, are you, Jack?" Frank remarked admiringly, as they again got safely away from the kennels, Jack finding it necessary at the last moment to remove two large paws from her shoulders in order to settle a dispute between two of the other dogs.

Jack laughed. "Goodness, Frank, what an extraordinary opinion you and a few other people have of me! I am one of the biggest cowards in the world about the things I am afraid of. I simply don't happen to be afraid of animals, as so many women are. And that is not a virtue, but because I was brought up with them."

"I should like to know what you do fear, then?" Frank demanded.

Instead of answering at once Jack slipped her arm inside her husband's.

"I am dreadfully afraid of the people I care about being angry with me, though you and the rest of my family may not believe it, as I am supposed to have once been a wilful person," she returned unexpectedly.

"Sometimes I wonder, Frank, just how much of a coward I would be, if I had either to give up what I thought was right or else to have some one seriously angry with me. I have not the courage of my convictions like Frieda."

In response Frank uttered a half growl, which was not very complimentary to Frieda or her convictions. However, Jack went on almost without pausing.

"I wonder, Frank, if it is fair to Frieda not to let her know what has happened to Professor Russell? Sometimes I have thought she has worried more over his silence than we imagine."

Frank shook his head.

"Frieda deserves whatever may come to her. It is an old-fashioned axiom, dear, but all the more true for that reason: Frieda has made her bed; now let her lie upon it."

"But Frieda is hardly more than a child," Jack protested. "Besides, that is a pretty hard rule to apply to people. I don't think you and I would like to have it applied to us if we were ever in any difficulty."

As it struck Frank as utterly impossible that he and Jack ever could have a disagreement, which could not be settled amiably in a few hours, he paid no attention to her last statement. Nevertheless he added:

"After all, Jack, it is not for us to decide anything concerning Frieda and her husband. That is for them. We are simply doing what Professor Russell has requested of us."

"Yes, but Frieda," Jack expostulated more weakly.

"Frieda is receiving just what she asked for--silence. But you must not worry over Frieda. She will solve existence happily for herself soon enough. Almost any man would do anything and forgive anything in behalf of such blue eyes and yellow hair as Frieda's to say nothing of her Professor. I may pretend to be severe but I should probably forgive her as readily."

"Sooner than you would me?" Jack inquired and laughed. "Oh, of course, you would. Everybody always has as long as I can remember."

Frank looked more closely at his wife and his face softened until his eyes held their old expression of boyish admiration. Always he had been pleased by her intense loyalty to the people she cared for. It had made him forgive her in the past when she had some mistaken idea of loyalty toward Olive.

"I am afraid you have had to do the forgiving recently, Jack. I expect I have been difficult. But I feel so torn these days wanting to be over in France doing the real work with fellows like Bryan, and at the same time wanting to be here with you and the babies and knowing I am perhaps more useful in London than I would be elsewhere."

Jack's clear grey eyes were full of the spiritual understanding that had made her always so valuable a friend, and a woman must be a friend to her husband as well as other things.

"I know, Frank," she answered, "but you are doing the right thing. If I didn't think so, no matter how I should suffer, do you believe for a moment that I would stand in your way?"

And catching her look, Frank replied.

"No, Jack, I don't; but I thank you for understanding."

There were no letters delivered at Kent House on Sunday, but on each Sunday afternoon one of the men drove over to the post-office, which was open for an hour, and returned with the mail. It was important that Lord Kent should be kept in touch with every situation that arose, as there might be grave and tragic developments in the course of the hours he sometimes spent away from London.

As he picked up the mail which was lying on the table in the hall as they entered, Frank extended a letter to his wife.

"This is from Bryan, I believe, Jack. Do tell me what he says."

They went into the library where Frieda and Olive were already waiting for tea to be served.

Jack walked over to the fire and, before taking off her hat, read her letter through quietly.

Then she looked up happily.

"Bryan says he is all right and sends his love to the family, but more especially to his Lady Vive. He asks us all to write to him oftener if we can manage it, as we are his adopted family and he has no other.

Frieda, he says your gift of socks is the most wonderful in all France.

I actually believe Bryan is almost having a good time; but if he is not he is awfully brave."

Making no effort to conceal her emotion, Jack's eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"Gracious, Jack," Frieda exclaimed. "As long as there is nothing the matter with Captain MacDonnell, I wouldn't shed any tears over him. You so seldom cry, it always makes me wretched when you do. I'll bet Jack has never shed any tears over you, Frank."

Frieda was not like a kitten in appearance alone. She had also soft little claws with which she scratched a tiny bit now and then. She had been entirely conscious that her brother-in-law considered that she was to blame in a large measure for her trouble with her husband, although he had never said so to her. Yet she had a desire to get a little bit even with him now and then.

Frank's face did flush slightly, although he smiled good humoredly.

"Oh, I am nothing but a civilian these days and Bryan is a soldier. I can't expect the same interest to be bestowed upon me, even by my own wife."

CHAPTER X

THE LETTER

AS soon as Jack saw Frank's face she realized that something tragic had occurred.

She had come down to the train alone to meet him, but said nothing until they had walked away from the little crowd at the station into the gloom of the midwinter afternoon.