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It is, then, not surprising that President Lincoln was "moved with sympathy" when he heard the story of Pringle's suffering for conscience, or that he quietly said to the Secretary of War, "It is my urgent wish that this Friend be released." Haverford, Pa., December, 1917. VI, p. 328.
Clive Day, head of the Department of Economics at Yale, specialist on the Balkans; W. E. Lunt, professor of History at Haverford College, specialist on northern Italy; Charles Seymour, professor of History at Yale, specialist on Austria-Hungary; Mark Jefferson, professor of Geography at Michigan State Normal, and Prof. James T. Shotwell, professor of History at Columbia.
The food had been good, the service satisfactory. She stood up, slim and beautifully dressed, and gathered up the women with a smile. The movement found Doctor Haverford, at her left, unprepared and with his coffee cup in his hand. He put it down hastily and rose, and the small cup overturned in its saucer, sending a smudge of brown into the cloth. "Dreadfully awkward of me!" he said.
"I understand Clayton has given him a position." "He has made him an office boy." "How like dear Clayton!" breathed Mrs. Haverford, and counted the honors as hers. But she had not come to quarrel. She had had, indeed, a frankly benevolent purpose in coming, and she proceeded to carry it out at once.
During May, 1917, the following American-owned boats were sunk: Hilonian, Harpagus, Dirigo, Frances M., Barbara, and Margaret B. Rouss. Between June 12, 1917, and July 16, 1917, the American merchant marine lost, besides some small boats, the following eight vessels with a total tonnage of over 38,000: Hansau, Haverford, Bay State, Moreni, Petrolite, Massapequa, Orleans, and Grace.
The ultra-military figure paused by Graham's sketching-stool, and said, "Young man, do you know where this creature belongs? I found her trying to commit suicide on the rifle range why, Graham!" It was Doctor Haverford. He grew a trifle less military then, and borrowed some pipe tobacco. He looked oddly younger, Graham thought, and rather self-conscious of his uniform.
Constance grew so restless, that when orders came for her husband to attend the King at Haverford, where he was about to embark on his journey to Ireland, she determined to go there also. "I can breathe better any whither than at Cardiff!" she said confidentially to Maude. But in truth it was not Cardiff from which he fled, but her own restless spirit.
She passed him the bread, the butter, the hashed brown potatoes, the tea, and he ate cheerfully. "I think I am going to try and get out of that shop over there," he volunteered affably. "Why?" asked Angela mechanically. "I'm tired of it. The men are not so interesting to me now. I'm tired of them. I think Mr. Haverford will transfer me if I write to him. He said he would.
Then we had a multiple wedding. Honestly! The organ played a squeaky wedding march, and we went in, six couples. The church was full of soldiers, and I don't mind saying I was ready to shed tears. "We lined up, and Doctor Haverford married us. Delight says she is sure we are only one-sixth married. Quiet! You never heard such quiet except for the General blowing his nose.
They were carrying great three-by-six joists on their shoulders. Would he be asked to do anything like that. He scarcely thought so. Mr. Haverford had distinctly indicated in his letter to Mr. Litlebrown that he was to be built up by degrees. Carrying great joists did not appeal to him as the right way, but he presented his letter.
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