the joyous
tidings that Stanley was safe after all; but even the Riviera fails to
restore her wonted spirits. She droops visibly during the long winter.
"She grows so much older away from Willy," says the fond mamma, to whom
proximity to that vivacious youth is the acme of earthly bliss. Uncle
Jack grins and says nothing. It is dawning upon him that something is
needed besides the air and sunshine of the Riviera to bring back the
dancing light in those sweet blue eyes and joy to the wistful little
face.

"The time to see the Yosemite and 'the glorious climate of California'
is April, not October," he suddenly declares, one balmy morning by the
Mediterranean; "and the sooner we get back to Yankeedom the better
'twill suit me."

And so it happens that, early in the month of meteorological smiles and
tears, the trio are speeding westward far across the rolling prairies:
Mrs. McKay deeply scandalized at the heartless conduct of the War
Department in refusing Willy a two-months' leave to go with them; Uncle
Jack quizzically disposed to look upon that calamity as a not utterly
irretrievable ill; and Nan, fluttering with hope, fear, joy, and dread,
all intermingled; for is not _he_ stationed at Cheyenne? All these long
months has she cherished that little knot of senseless ribbon. If she
had sent it to him within the week of his graduation, perhaps it would
not have seemed amiss; but after that, after all he had been through in
the campaign,--the long months of silence,--he might have changed, and,
for very shame, she cannot bring herself to give a signal he would
perhaps no longer wish to obey. Every hour her excitement and
nervousness increase; but when the conductor of the Pullman comes to
say that Cheyenne is really in sight, and the long whistle tells that
they are nearing the dinner station of those days, Nan simply loses
herself entirely. There will be half an hour, and Philip actually there
to see, to hear, to answer. She hardly knows whether she is of this
mortal earth when Uncle Jack comes bustling in with the gray-haired
colonel, when she feels Miriam's kiss upon her cheek, when Mr. Lee,
handsomer and kindlier than ever, bends down to take her hand; but she
looks beyond them all for the face she longs for,--and it is not there.
The car seems whirling around when, from over her shoulder, she hears,
in the old, well-remembered tones, a voice that redoubles the throb of
her little heart.

"Miss Nannie!"

And the