ks would be
tamed if they had the knowledge and love of some simple hero in their
hearts, and felt that there was a chance for them to be heroic. The war
gave them a chance. We have now to show them that there is beauty and
heroism in orderly living----"

He was talking to Madge. She was still with the Flippins. The injury to
her foot had been more serious than it had seemed. She might have gone
with Oscar and Flora when they left Hamilton Hill. But she preferred to
stay. Flora was to go to a hospital; Madge would not be needed.

"I am going to stay here as long as you will let me," she said to Mrs.
Flippin; "you will tell me if I am in the way----"

Mrs. Flippin adored Madge. "It is like having a Princess in the house,"
she said, "only she don't act like a Princess."

The Major came over every afternoon. Kemp drove him, as a rule, in the
King's Crest surrey. If the little man missed Dalton's cars, he said no
word. He made the Major very comfortable. He lived a life of ease if not
of elegance, and he loved the wooded hills, the golden air, the fine old
houses, the serene autumn glory of this southern world.

On the afternoon when the Major talked to Madge of the world at peace,
they were together under the apple tree which Madge had first seen from
the window of the east room. There were other apple trees in the old
orchard, but it was this tree that Madge liked because of its golden
globes. "The red ones are wonderful," she said, "but red isn't my color.
With my gold skin, they make me look like a gypsy. If I am to be a
golden girl, I must stay away from red----"

"Is that what you are--a golden girl?"

"That was always George Dalton's name for me."

"I am sorry."

"Why?"

"Because I should like it to be mine for you. I should like to link my
golden West with the thought of you."

"And you won't now, because it was somebody else's name for me?"

Kemp, before he went away, had made her comfortable with cushions in a
chair-like crotch of the old tree. The Major was at her feet. He
meditated a moment. "I shall make it my name for you. What do I care
what other men have called you."

"Do you know what you called me--once?" she was smiling down at him.

"No."

"A little lame duck. It was when I first tried to use my foot. And you
laughed, and said that it--linked us--together. And now you are trying
to link me with your West----"

"You know why, of course."

"Yes, I do."

He drew a long breath. "Most