y met
only one couple, and never heeded a hail or two from vine-screened
porches. He was in no mood for chat or confidence. He wished to reach
his own room, and reach it unmolested. He breathed a sigh of relief that
there was no one to detain him as he neared his own doorway. The little
parlor, too, was deserted. Mother and Priscilla had apparently gone to
some one of the neighbors. The lights were turned down on the lower
floor and all was darkness above. Doors and windows, army-fashion, stood
wide open, and, as he struck a match on reaching his little room, the
white curtains were fluttering outward under the stir of the gentle air
that swept through from the hall. He had no thought of staying. He meant
to leave his books and papers, to bathe his face and hands, for they
seemed burning, and then--he had no definite plan; he only wished to be
alone.

At the foot of the stairs, as he reached the lower hall, he heard his
mother's voice. She was at the gate, Priscilla and Captain Washburn,
too, and Sandy turned, tiptoed through the hall, the dining-room, the
deserted kitchen, for the domestics had gone gossiping about the
neighborhood. Back of the kitchen, in the narrow yard, ran the
one-storied shed, divided by partitions into laundry, storeroom, coal
and woodshed, and Hogan's sleeping-room and sanctuary, and a dark form
issued from Hogan's doorway at the instant that Sandy, tiptoeing still,
came forth from the kitchen. "Hogan!" he hailed, but it was not Hogan.
It was someone of his own size and build, someone who started, then
stopped short and faced him with punctilious salute.

"It is Blenke, sir."

"And what the devil are you doing--there?" demanded Ray, suspicious,
irritated, nervously angered against everything, everybody; never,
moreover, approving of Blenke, and knowing well how Hogan disapproved of
him.

But Blenke's voice was gentle melancholy, mingled with profound respect.

"Looking for Hogan, sir. I had promised Miss Sanford to return some
books. I didn't presume to enter the house, and thought to leave a
message with him. I desired, too, to see the lieutenant, sir. My
application for transfer to the cavalry has been disapproved, and--I
hoped that he might say just a word to help me."

"After that exploit of yours--last month?" And Ray's eyes grew angrier
yet. "We have too many questionable characters as it is."

"Lieutenant," spoke the soldier, almost imploringly, "I am doing my best
to live down t