e
mood and repentant of his sins. Of just what sins to repent poor Pat
might still be unsettled in his mind. It was sufficient that he had
them, as all soldiers must have, said Miss Wren, and now that his
brain seemed clearing and the fever gone and he was too weak and
helpless to resist, the time seemed ripe for the sowing of good seed,
and Janet went to sow.

But there by Mullins's bed, all unabashed at Janet's marked
disapprobation, sat Norah Shaughnessy. There, in flannel shirt and
trooper trousers and bandanna neckerchief, pale, but collected, stood
the objectionable Mr. Blakely. He was bending over, saying something
to Mullins, as she halted in the open doorway, and Blakely, looking
quickly up, went with much civility to greet and escort her within. To
his courteous, "Good-evening, Miss Wren, may I relieve you of your
basket?" she returned prompt negative and, honoring him with no
further notice, stood and gazed with Miss Shaughnessy at the
focus--Miss Shaughnessy who, after one brief glance, turned a broad
Irish back on the intruder at the doorway and resumed her murmuring to
Mullins.

"Is the doctor here--or Steward Griffin?" spoke the lady, to the room
at large, looking beyond the lieutenant and toward the single soldier
attendant present.

"The doctor and the steward are both at home just now, Miss Wren,"
said Blakely. "May I offer you a chair?"

Miss Wren preferred to stand.

"I wish to speak with Steward Griffin," said she again. "Can you go
for him?" this time obviously limiting her language to the attendant
himself, and carefully excluding Mr. Blakely from the field of her
recognition. The attendant dumbly shook his head. So Aunt Janet tried
again.

"Norah, _you_ know where the steward lives, will you--" But Blakely
saw rebellion awake again in Ireland and interposed.

"The steward shall be here at once, Miss Wren," said he, and tiptoed
away. The lady's doubtful eye turned and followed him a moment, then
slowly she permitted herself to enter. Griffin, heading for the
dispensary at the moment and apprised of her visit, came hurrying in.
Blakely, pondering over the few words Mullins had faintly spoken,
walked slowly over toward the line. His talk with Graham had in a
measure stilled the spirit of rancor that had possessed him earlier in
the day. Graham, at least, was stanch and steadfast, not a weathercock
like Cutler. Graham had given him soothing medicine and advised his
strolling a while in the