was, "Is mother home?"

Priscilla looked aloft. "In her room," she said.

"Then I cannot--speak to you now," said Sandy. "Colonel Stone has called
me to account for one of the five inclosures to this paper. Before I
answer we've got to have, you and I, a clear understanding, and before
we can have that you must read these, and think over what other slanders
you have written."

"I was going to the hospital," faltered Priscilla. "Sullivan's
worse--and Blenke's been so queer----"

"The hospital, Sullivan, and Blenke can wait," said Sandy firmly, though
his voice was shaking. "Colonel Stone and I cannot. I shall say nothing
to mother of this as yet. Be ready to see me here at twelve o'clock.
Mother will not be home."

So saying, and leaving in her hands the fateful packet, Ray turned
abruptly and left the house, Priscilla mounting slowly to her room.

It still lacked an hour to noon, and she had time to read and to think.
It was past the hour at which Jimmy Dwight generally came running in to
say good-morning to Aunt Marion, but Jimmy had not come. Out on the
sunlit parade a dozen garrison boys and girls were in the midst of a
shouting, shrieking, frolicsome game of "Pull-Away," and Jimmy, usually
one of the blithest and merriest, was not there. Priscilla had noted
this when, from the little veranda of the lieutenant's quarters but a
few minutes before, she had been disapprovingly watching the sport--it
was so uninstructive, thought Priscilla. She could not, from the window
at the side, see much of the parade. Over against it, midway along the
barrack line of the northeast front, she could see the Exchange
building, could see Sandy more than halfway across, walking even more
swiftly, stiffly, than ever. She saw the few loungers and convalescents,
sunning themselves on the southern benches, rising to their feet at the
approach of the young officer. She could hear the tramp of the two
battalions and the majors' ringing commands, exercising, one on the
plain to the south where Dwight's squadron disported itself before
breakfast, the other out on the parade. She could hear faintly the fine
band of the infantry practicing at the assembly room adjoining the
Exchange. From the open window of Sandy's room, across the hall, she
could have seen the deserted veranda of the officers' club. Half an hour
hence it would be swarming with thirsty and perspiring gentlemen in
khaki just in from a lively drill. She felt rather than saw