th an ugly frown.

"More than I want to know," he answered gruffly. "He's rotten! That's
all! Why?" He eyed her suspiciously.

There was something in his tone that put her on the defensive at once:

"Oh, I saw him to-day, and I was wondering," she answered evasively.

"It's one of the annoyances of army life that we have to be herded up
with all sorts of cattle!" said Wainwright with a disdainful curl of his
baby mustache. "But I didn't come here to talk about John Cameron. I came
to tell you that I'm going to be married, Ruth. I'm going to be married
before I go to France!"

"Delightful!" said Ruth pleasantly. "Do I know the lady?"

"Indeed you do," he said watching her with satisfaction. "You've known,
for several years that you were the only one for me, and I've come to
tell you that I won't stand any more dallying. I mean business now!"

He crossed his fat leather puttees creakily and swelled out, trying to
look firm. He had decided that he must impress her with the seriousness
of the occasion.

But Ruth only laughed merrily. He had been proposing to her ever since he
got out of short trousers, and she had always laughed him out of it. The
first time she told him that she was only a kid and he wasn't much more
himself, and she didn't want to hear any more such talk. Of late he had
grown less troublesome, and she had been inclined to settle down to the
old neighborly playmate relation, so she was not greatly disturbed by the
turn of the conversation. In fact, she was too much upset and annoyed by
the sudden departure of Cameron to realize the determined note in
Wainwright's voice.

"I mean it!" he said in an offended tone, flattening his double chin and
rolling out his fat lips importantly. "I'm not to be played with any
longer."

Ruth's face sobered:

"I certainly never had an idea of playing with you, Harry. I think I've
always been quite frank with you."

Wainwright felt that he wasn't getting on quite as well as he had
planned. He frowned and sat up:

"Now see here, Ruth! Let's talk this thing over!" he said, drawing the
big leather chair in which he was sitting nearer to hers.

But Ruth's glance had wandered out of the window. "Why, there comes
Bobbie Wetherill!" she exclaimed eagerly and slipped out of her chair to
the door just as one of Wainwright's smooth fat hands reached out to take
hold of the arm of her rocker. "I'll open the door for him. Mary is in
the kitchen and may not hear the bell