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the close of the session. Almira came too, and made an impression on the
juvenile minds of some of the laundresses' children, who studied her
pretty face and new hat and garments with close attention; but it gave
her a headache and she would rather not go to the evening service, she
said,--a service held more especially for the benefit of the soldiers
and their families, and but sparsely attended otherwise. Davies went,
however, and when he came home to their temporary quarters, found
Almira, all animation, chatting with Mrs. Flight and Mrs. Darling, to
whom she had been showing the contents of her big trunk. They were
called for presently by Mr. Sanders and his classmate Jervis, both of
whom had known the "Parson" in his cadet days, but from the somewhat
immeasurable altitude of a two years' start, yet they were the younger
looking now, gay, debonair bachelors, pillars of the social gatherings
at the post and most delightful partners, and, having completed their
duties with tattoo roll-call, they were now in search of these reigning
belles and an opportunity to talk over the hop projected for the coming
Wednesday night. Of course Mrs. Davies would come, said Jervis, but
Sanders's warning kick brought him to consciousness. "At least I
hope--we all hope you'll very soon be able to attend our parties, Mrs.
Davies. I suppose you've reformed the Parson and taught him to waltz."
Mira looked at her husband, and she knew not just what to say.

Davies smiled gravely and said no, he feared that he was too old and
awkward to learn even at the Point, but that Mrs. Davies was very fond
of dancing, and by and by, perhaps, they would attend. Then the chat
flowed merrily on, of the lovely time that they had all enjoyed,--that
is, the garrison people had enjoyed all summer, and the pleasant
associations they had formed with the gentlemen from town, and how much
lovelier it would be now. And while they were talking, through the thin
partition which separated Mr. Boynton's official and personal quarters
from those of Lieutenant and Adjutant Leonard there came the sound of
sacred music,--Mrs. Leonard at her piano, her clear, true voice blending
with the deep resonant bass of her soldier husband and the sweet treble
of the children, and Davies stopped to listen. It was a hymn his father
loved, one they often sang at the old church at home,--

"Son of my soul, Thou Saviour dear."

It brought sweet and sacred memories. It spoke of ho