“Sing a cheer to Mr. Wing!” cried Sahwah, and the others complied with a vigor that made the dishes ring: 

  “You’re the B-E-S-T, best,
  Of all the R-E-S-T, rest,
  Oh, I love you, I love you all the T-I-M-E, time! 
  If you’ll be M-I-N-E, mine,
  I’ll be T-H-I-N-E, thine,
  Oh, I love you, I love you all the T-I-M-E, time!”

Mr. Wing bowed in acknowledgment of the cheer and his smile showed how much it had pleased him.

“Great time you’ll have drilling, with those heels of yours,” he said teasingly.  “I wish I could be there to see.”

“Father!” exclaimed Agony reproachfully, “do you think for a minute we’d do military drill with these shoes on?”

“But, Father,” said Oh-Pshaw eagerly, “don’t you really wish you could be there to see?  I wish you could stay home awhile and play with us as you used to.  Can’t you?  Do you have to go back to Philadelphia?”

Mr. Wing looked a little wistful, but he answered chafingly, “Wouldn’t that be a great thing to do just now in the middle of one of the greatest cases in my career?”

“Oh, tell us about it,” cried Agony eagerly.  Agony was perfectly well aware of the fact that her father would never tell anything at home that was not also given out to the newspapers, but she liked to hear him tell that little in his own way.

“It’s the Arnold Atterbury case,—­you’ve read about it in the newspapers—­the man who has been organizing strikes in the big munition plants,” replied Mr. Wing.  “We know he was only a tool in the hands of some powerful German agency, but who or what it is we do not know.  But we mean to find out!” he added in a tone which gave a hint of the stern determination of his character.  “We will track down those enemy influences like foxes to their holes!” His voice thundered out like the voice of judgment.

“Amen to that!” exclaimed the artist fervently, and, seizing his water glass from beside his plate, he sprang to his feet and raised it high in the air.

“Let’s have a toast!” he cried.  “Drink success to our cause and defeat to the enemy!”

The rest were on their feet in an instant, clinking Grandmother Wing’s etched tumblers across the table and drinking the toast with all their hearts.  That little incident put patriotic fervor into all of them and the evening was filled with animated discussions and hearty singing of war songs.

Migwan declared on the way home that Mr. Wing was the most charming man she had ever met.  Hinpoha thought the artist was even more charming and hoped they would meet him often.  Sahwah said nothing.  She could not forget that the artist had seemed to doubt Veronica’s sincerity, and it made her angry and she refused to acknowledge his fascinations.  She walked close beside Veronica and linked arms with her as she walked.