The sky at the end of July in northern France was cloudlessly clear. Several CEF divisions had arrived over the course of weeks, until the entire large tract of land, where the grass had sunk into the dry ground, was an invading sea of tents, yet with its own internal order. Sometimes a few Anzack Corps troops walked to the CEF site and vice versa. Command and discipline were strict, with everlasting drills as it was norm, but also time for relaxation at hastily built huts, always out of range of enemy fire. Most remarkable of all was a certain sense of feverish agitation and simultaneous peace that had possessed Captain Kenneth Ford's mind for the past couple of days. It wasn't about certainty, because there wasn't, as he knew his position didn't protect him at all.

Often, too often he had seen how newly minted Captains had perished, as they had led their troops to the fray by example, as per high commands orders. But for now a quirk of fate, or perhaps Walter was watching him from Heaven, guarding his steps. Ken stiffened into formation as his commanding officer Stevens walked hurriedly with two soldiers by his side. Ken heard Stevens grunt in his gruff way, "Reports, Parker. What have you found out?"

Ken, frowning as a tall, somewhat large man in a shabby military uniform, with a tinge of red gold in his cropped hair, saluted, with innate grace, and spoke in a low sonorous voice, " Well, sir, brother and I did as our orders were, and wrote open it what we found out. Apparently they still think our troops and the British are from the vicinity of Lys and Albert, which was partly true, but not anymore."

A slimmer solider whose hair was a shade of tawny-golden, he stretched his shoulders and said in a very dry tone, "My brother is not exaggerating, at least not by much. Decoding the messages and propaganda leaflets and working with the radio unit has been interesting, since we were wounded, but of course we're completely fine now."

Stevens, wiped his moustache, with a small gesture that Ken recognized, it meant contentment that was completely out of his voice as he continued, "Well, get on with your work. And I've got your request on my desk regarding your willingness to join the C.S.E.F, which is being put together. Major General James H. Elmsley is an old acquaintance of mine. I think men and volunteers are being recruited for those forces from elsewhere. So I refuse to accede to your request."

Stevens continued his journey with hasty steps towards the main tent where the high command was. Curious, Ken stepped closer, and heard one of the men mutter, "Will, I told you it wouldn't work, but of course you didn't listen. We could go help in Bohemia if we ever get out of here in one piece, because rumors are flying that maybe something big is finally starting to happen, our late cousin Plamen's dream of independence will perhaps come true."

A long spit of tobacco flew in an arc almost to Ken's boots, as the larger of the men said in a commanding tone, "Andy, don't be so touchy. There's a reason we're here and not over there, or somewhere else in the Alps swinging on ropes, aiming our guns at Italian uniforms. We do what we have to, what is our duty everything else is extra, though useful, like our language skills. Well, I'm going to slaughter a Private at brag, he wanted a replay. Remember, later today is Battalion theatricals, and it's your turn. It's downright amusing how much you are similar in looks to our Alice, as you are decked all with frills and furbelows, wigged with blonde ringlets, with enormous hat. All that old and so very sappy nonsense."

The slim solider turned and saluted to Ken. Ken, nodded smoothly, and in the familiar tone he used for unfamiliar soldiers, as he had noticed ages ago that the rank and file reacted to his status first. "At, ease. I want to inquire if you have everything you need? Enough cigarettes, and what about writing paper if you want to write home, or perhaps to your sweetheart?"

A blond soldier, blinked his long-lashed dark blue eyes in surprise. After a moment of silence, he said, "Thank you, Captain, but I have everything I need. Please, come with your men to the D Section Battalion teatherical tonight."

On the stage, leaning against a painted wrought-iron fence, stood a figure dressed in a light summer dress decorated with abundant pleats and a large unruly hat decorated with dried roses. The figure turned, made an exaggerated curtsy. Ken tried to suppress his hilarity, but he noticed that several men were laughing, as the figure on the stage, took one dramatic step and began to recite, a selection of Hardy's lyrics, Fragment, Men who march away, Channel Firing, The Chosen, The Ruined Maid, Last Performance, with a clean contra-tenor voice that was a deliberate contrast to the character's delicate, late-Victorian sensibility. Another swingingly graceful step, and then the soft notes of the piano shimmered in the stuffy packed space, as By the Light of the Silv'ry Moon, sparkled, with innate humor, lightly, and over the performer's head a large papier-mâché moon was quietly towed by strings. Ken noticed that a few men were muttering lowly to each other, "Section D always has to do everything with a splash, that performer is almost too convincing, with those airs. Back home I knew several girls who were just like that, walked the line after Services, together like geese, and it was impossible to make them even smile." Amused, Ken lit his cigarette, and leaned back with the ammo box against his back, as the performers changed on stage with a rousing cheer and quite number off-color jokes thrown to the audience.

Andy Parker, humming rousing refrain of Mademoiselle from Armentières sat on a slanted ammo box that had been emptied weeks ago, contentedly wiped his face. The light-colored dress was neatly folded into the packing box, and on top of it was a light-colored wig and a large hat. A sonorous, polished voice remarked, "Thanks for the invitation, Private. You made a very memorable appearance."

Andy Parker jumped to his feet, hastily buttoning his uniform as he met Captain Ford's luminous dark gray gaze. Andy Parker, a bit wary, closed the box with the performance outfit and said "Thank you, it's an advantage that I have sisters. Years ago, my brother and I imagined that a boy from the neighboring village would have gathered the courage to court one of them, but apparently not nothing ever happened. They just walked and sat in our garden and talked, a lot, sissy has been one of the inspirations for this Battalion theatrical character, it's done with tongue in cheek, but here in this bloody misery the general moral rules are sometimes bent, because why else several lads, here would dress in women's clothes, even in the form of a lark and joke."

Ken glanced at the blonde soldier, intently, as a strange certainty filled him. The soldier reminded him of someone, but then the feeling dissipated as he said warmly, "Sisters are annoying at times, but the world is richer when they're around, isn't it?"

A faint smile appeared on the blond soldier's lips as he said, "True, even though I haven't seen my sisters in years, my memories of them are fragmentary, of course they write, sometimes."

And that night, inspired by a conversation with Private Parker, Ken read Persis' letters, and before the usual order came, he touched Rilla's letters, which resided in the pocket of his uniform jacket, despite his batman´s unspoken disapproval. Ken remembered Rilla's shy but intense look, as the wild mint had smelled on an August night, Ken had seriously considered kissing Rilla, but that impulse had only been momentary. Instead, he had received a promise, from her. In a few days another August was again coming. Idle manner Ken pondered that perhaps August moon would shine over Ingelside, perhaps Rilla would sit among the mint and remember their moment. Ken swept his hair carelessly, laughed mockingly at himself, as shiny moon-dreams have no place here, near Amiens, in that place, which was a hotbed of activity, of armament, of various descriptions, coded information, battalions upon battalions of soliders and three different high command, of Allies, all gearing up for an opening of an offensive attack, in the Picardie.

Anne Blythe, brought the tea tray into Gilbert's study and said softly, attentively, "Beloved, just because you managed to work a miracle earlier in the spring when you visited Redmond, doesn't mean you have to work on the verge of exhaustion, or perhaps already in the throes of it. The country doctor's work never ends, but please slow down a little, for my sake, if you can?"

Gilbert looked up from Mrs. Howard's folder. The Howard siblings had run to Ingelside in a panic the day before. Irene had been strained with a sense of superiority, which was fragmented, as she had stood in her honey-colored summer dress, in the foyer of Ingelside and demanded to be taken to Dr. Blythe´s office for a private consultation. Wild eyed, not so polished Clive was standing next to his sister, in his VTC uniform, his legs slightly covered in reddish dust, for it had been a hot July. Clive had been challenging, for he had not agreed to believe that his mother had simply jetted off to distant shores, without consulting a doctor, for the late Mrs. Howard had been famous throughout the Upper Glen, for going to the doctor's office for the slightest hay fever or headache.

Gilbert rolled up his sleeves, and put the almost wobbly stack of folders into a locked desk drawer as he said, "You're right. It's pointless to think about what I could have changed, especially since in Mrs. Howard's case I didn't get to consult at all, there was no time. Are the Junior Reds still organizing something a small event in the near future?"

Anne Blythe, nodded, and said cheerfully, "Betty Meade and Rilla have arranged it enthusiastically, for the town hall. It will be small and intimate, Una Meredith, Mary Vance and Minnie Clow are helping. I believe Minnie Clow and Di have collaborated musically, as Minnie is one of the few altos in Glen's choir."

Gilbert arranged his prescription book in a neat row, and remarked, in a steady voice that had the tone of a doctor's experience, "Under the circumstances, it would be wisest to cancel that event, I think, as we wish to avoid any further contact and possible contamination."

Anne, frowned and said, "Dearest, when we didn't go to Therese Parker's funeral I knew the situation was serious. Rosemary Meredith and Gertrude Oliver both shared their varying impressions of the service. We were having tea together last Sunday at Rosemary's request at the Manse. Since her last dream, Gertrude has been almost cheerful. Sometimes her moods remind me of the sarcasm of my beloved Leslie. I'm not sure if Gertrude is enough comforting company for Alice in her grief, but of course you want to keep our dear girl safe. In these times, doesn't community spirit bring hope. Do the people of the Glen meet each other in church, or Are you going to explain to John Meredith why his parishioners don't come on Sundays, if you're going to use your influence?"

Gilbert laughed, and said, "You exaggerate my love. I may be chasing shadows, but my experience in Redmond left its mark, as did the words of my local colleagues. Perhaps nothing needs to be canceled and the Junior Reds can hold their event, but that edict, regarding Lowbridge, remains absolute."

In the homey chaos of Ingelside, Anne noticed how the red-cheeked Di was talking or rather arguing eagerly with Rilla. Rilla's voice was accented with italics, as she declared, "Di, I don't care if you spent your spare time in Redmond with all kinds of people giving you various instructions on how to construct an artistic performance. Minnie Clow wants to perform hymns. I think she wants to get a chance emerge from Irene Howard's shadow, I applaude her will do so with great pleasure."

Di shook her hair irritably as she remarked in a slightly biting voice, "Dear Rilla, of course you do as you please, but my suggestions would have been to improve Minnie's part, nothing else. And there is nothing wrong with the hymns she chose, except for their weariness." Nan, raised her dreamy eyes from Conan Doyle's novel, as she remarked, " Di, don't be so prickly, or a music snob, for if Una accepts those hymns, and she does, you have not a word to complain about. Rilla is trying her best, she has done extremely good job with the Junior Reds."

Gilbert raised his voice over the merry uproar and said with mischievous seriousness, "In joining the various amusements of musical variety in Kingsport, when I was doing that consultation. One evening I chanced to meet informally a local celebrity, though I did not know it at the time. I only saw ladies of various ages drinking tea and waiting in one of the parlors of Gardiner Hall."

Susan sniffed, sharply as she carried tray back into the kitchen.

Anne noticed Di stirring her tea with restless fingers as she remarked, "Dads. Tell me. Did you like them?" Nan, tilted her head, as she said, with a sidelong glance, towards Di, " Fishing for compliments and opinions is not polite."

Rilla glanced confusedly at her sisters, as Gilbert crossed his long-fingered hands and said musingly, "Of that crowd, one in particular stuck out to me, but that could simply be because I'm partial to redheads."

Nan chuckled lightly, but Di didn't. Carefully, Anne noticed that it was as if Gilbert's words meant something important to Di, as her shoulders relaxed a little.

Two days later there was a cake and anthem afternoon at Glen's town hall. The decorations in the hall were homemade, but as elegant as possible, with colorful Allied Flag steamers, in place and late blooming flowers in vases. Tables were full of cakes, and this time none of the members of Laidies Aid grumbled about Borden's regulations. Bruce Meredith walked eagerly between the tables and told anyone who would listen that he thought his Stripey was making a nest with enthusiasm. In vain Rosemary tried to whisper that the arrival of possible kittens was not an appropriate topic of conversation. Ellen Douglas, eyes twinkling, remarked, "Rosemary, if Carl were here he would be the first to ask Bruce for more information, and certainly to help as well."

Rosemary smiled in a wistful way as she remembered Carl's previous letter, which was in between John's Bible, there were all his children's letters. And often carefully Rosemary had to change the place where they were kept, so that the letters would not be spread over the pulpit on Sundays, although no one was probably offended by it. There was a slight commotion in Glen's town hall as the Howard siblings arrived. Minnie Clow, who was performing on the stage, straightened her back defiantly, but Irene just nodded lightly, to Minnie, and whispered something in her brother's ear. Olive Kirke flagged down next to Clive Howard, and nervously held out a piece of cake. Rilla and Betty Meade glanced at each other, and Mary Vance remarked loudly, "Howards, and Kirkes, honestly!"

Di Blythe played Wyatt, Maple Leaf Rag, and inspired by that familiar music, several couples began to dance. Patriotic, loyal golden hymns echoed. Afterwards, Betty Mead wryly stated to Rilla Blythe, "The sales were great, perhaps the combination of cake and hymns would work in the future." There was a dreamy look in Rilla's eyes, which however sharpened as she replied to Betty, "You're right. Olive Kirke was too obvious as she publicly threw herself into the arms of a grieving Clive Howard, or at least almost. There's no point waiting a scrap of decency for any of the Kirkes."

As the evening darkened, Rilla crept through the fallen dew into the enchanting Rainbow Valley, she leaned against a thick birch and raised her eyes to the starry sky, the stream trickled silently, on its bank, wild mint and herbs spread their soft perfume, as she was alone with her secret dreams, which were always brought out by the scent of mint and the twilight of the evening, as she looked at Ken's photo from her skirt pocket, and gently touched the brooch on the collar of her dress. With a dreamy smile on her lips, Nan looked up from Jerry's long letter, as Rilla walked through the dim garden.

Startled, Nan took a long look at her little sister. Rilla looked very grown up, as she gilded, through the shadows, with fae-like grace, the light from the Ingelside windows raised reddish hues in her rich curling hair. Susan stood on the verandah and remarked, " Little Kitchener has been restless all evening, though usually he the sunniest and mischievous child. I belive that he has been waiting for you."