coaxing they stood up together and
sang, and their voices were sweet as birds as they piped out the words of
a popular song, one singing alto, the little one taking the high soprano.
Ruth put down her book and listened, wondering at the lovely expressions
on the two small faces. They made her think of the baby-seraphs in
Michael Angelo's pictures. Presently they burst into a religious song
with as much gusto as they had sung the ragtime. They were utterly
without self-consciousness, and sang with the fervor of a preacher. Yet
they were regular boys, for presently when they were released they went
to turning hand springs and had a rough and tumble scuffle in the corner
till their mother called them to order.

In a few minutes more the noisy officers and their wives parted, the men
striding off into the night with a last word about the possibility of
unexpected orders coming, and a promise to wink a flash light out of the
car window as the troop train went by in case they went out that night.
The wives went into one of the little stall-rooms and compared notes
about their own feelings and the probability of the ----Nth Division
leaving before Monday.

Then the head of the house appeared with a Bible under his arm humming a
hymn. He cast a keen pleasant glance at the two strangers in the corner,
and gave a cheery word to his wife in answer to her question:

"Yes, we had a great meeting to-night. A hundred and twenty men raised
their hands as wanting to decide for Christ, and two came forward to be
prayed for. It was a blessed time. I wish the boys had been over there to
sing. The meeting was in the big Y.M.C.A. auditorium. Has Captain Hawley
gone yet?"

"Not yet." His wife's voice was lowered. She motioned toward one of the
eight gray doors, and her husband nodded sadly.

"He goes at midnight, you know. Poor little woman!"

Just then the door opened and a young soldier came out, followed by his
wife, looking little and pathetic with great dark hollows under her eyes,
and a forced smile on her trembling lips.

The soldier came over and took the hand of the Salvation Army woman:

"Well, I'm going out to-night, Mother. I want to thank you for all you've
done for my little girl"--looking toward his wife--"and I won't forget
all the good things you've done for _me_, and the sermons you've
preached; and when I get over there I'm going to try to live right and
keep all my promises. I want you to pray for me that I may be