further. The walls were of stained wood, but apparently
there were two thicknesses, with something between to keep the heat and
cold out, for she could see a depth of some inches at the door. There
was a perfectly useless and adorable and absurd balcony over the
entrance, and a sort of mezzanine and a stair by which you could get to
it; something like what a child would plan in its ideas of the kind of
house it wanted. There was a door at the farther end leading into
another room, and crossing the wooden floor, with its brown fiber rug,
Marjorie opened it and entered a little back part where were packed
away most surprisingly a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom.

"Why, it isn't a cabin--it's a bungalow!" she said, surprised. "And
what darling furniture!"

The furniture was all in keeping, perfectly simple and straight-built,
of brown-stained wood. There was a long chair at one side of the
window-seat, with a stool beside it, and a magazine thrown down on the
stool. Everything looked as if it had just been lived in, and by some
one very much like Marjorie.

"When did you do all this?" she asked curiously.

"I didn't know you'd had any time for ages and ages. Was it----"

"Was it for some other girl," was hovering on her lips. But she did
not ask the question. As a matter of fact, she didn't want to hear the
answer if it was affirmative. "You don't remember," he said quietly.
"I put in some time training recruits not far from here. No, of course
you don't remember, because I never told you. It was in between my
first seeing you, and the other time when I was going around with you
and Billy and Lucille. After I saw you that first time, when I had to
come back here, near as it was to my old haunts,--well, I didn't know,
of course, whether I was ever going to marry you or not. But--there
was the cabin, my property, and I had time off occasionally and nothing
to do with it. So--well, it was for the you I thought might possibly
be. It made you realer, don't you see?"

Marjorie sank down as he finished, on the broad, soft window-seat; and
began to cry uncontrollably.

"Oh--oh--it seems so pitiful!" he made out that she was saying finally.
"I--I'm so sorry!"

Francis laughed gallantly.

"Oh, you needn't be sorry!" he said, smiling at her, though with an
obvious effort. "I had a mighty good time doing it, my dear. Why, the
things you said, and the way you acted while I was doing it for
you--you've n