till have a few friends. He's a good-looking chap and would carry off
a uniform. Wouldn't you be proud to see him?"

A tear rolled down her cheek. I patted myself on the back for an artful
fellow. But I had underrated her wit. To my chagrin she did not fall
into my trap.

"It's the uncertainty that's killing me," she said. And then she burst
out disconcertingly: "Do you think he has gone off with that dreadful
little Gedge girl?"

Phyllis! I was a myriad miles from Phyllis. I was talking about real
things. The mother, however, from her point of view, was talking of
real things also. But how did she come to know about her son's amours?
I thought it useless to enquire. Randall must have advertised his
passion pretty widely. I replied:

"It's extremely improbable. In the first place Phyllis Gedge isn't
dreadful, but a remarkably sweet and modest young woman, and in the
second place she won't have anything to do with him."

"That's nonsense," she said, bridling.

"Why?"

"Because--"

A gesture and a smile completed the sentence. That a common young
person should decline to have dealings with her paragon was incredible.

"I can find out in a minute," I smiled, "whether she is still in
Wellingsford."

I wheeled myself to the telephone on my writing-table and rang up Betty
at the hospital.

"Do you know where Phyllis Gedge is?"

Betty's voice came. "Yes. She's here. I've just left her to come to
speak to you. Why do you want to know?"

"Never mind so long as she is safe and sound. There's no likelihood of
her running away or eloping?"

Betty's laughter rang over the wires. "What lunacy are you talking? You
might as well ask me whether I'm going to elope with you."

"I don't think you're respectful, Betty," I replied. "Good-bye."

I rang off and reported Betty's side of the conversation to my visitor.

"On that score," said I, "you can make your mind quite easy."

"But where can the boy have gone?" she cried.

"Into the world somewhere to learn wisdom," I said, and in order to
show that I did not speak ironically, I wheeled myself to her side and
touched her hand. "I think his swift brain has realised at last that
all his smart knowledge hasn't brought him a little bit of wisdom worth
a cent. I shouldn't worry. He's working out his salvation somehow,
although he may not know it."

"Do you really think so?"

"I do," said I. "And if he finds that the path of wisdom leads to the
German trenches--will yo