in a gleeful hurry, and Francis went out
and disposed of the scraps and did mysterious things to the kerosene
stove. They were whizzing back the way they had come before Marjorie
had more than caught her breath.

"We'll be a little late, if you have to do anything in the dressing
line. I have to shave," said Francis.

Marjorie, who really wasn't used to men, colored a little at this
marital remark, and then said that she supposed that it must have been
hard not to do it in the trenches.

"Oh, that was only the poilus," said Francis, and went on into a flood
of details about keeping the men neat for the sake of their morale. It
was interesting; but Marjorie thought afterward that perhaps it was
because anything would have been while she was whirring along through
the darkening woods in the keen, sharp-scented air. She loved it more
and more, the woods and the atmosphere, and the memory of the little
cabin. She promised herself that she would try some day to find the
place by herself. Maybe she could borrow a horse or a bicycle or some
means of locomotion and go seeking it in the forest.

"Now hurry!" admonished Francis as he landed her neatly by the veranda.
"Don't let them stop you for anything to eat, as Mother O'Mara will
want to."

So she scurried up to her room, not even waiting to hear the voice of
temptation, and began hunting her belongings through for something. It
was foolish, but she was more excited over the thought of this rough,
impromptu backwoods dance than she ever had been in the city by real
dances, or out with Cousin Anna at the carefully planned subscription
dances where you knew just who was coming and just what they were going
to wear.

Finally she gave up her efforts at decision, and went out to find
Peggy. Her room, she knew, was on the third floor.

"Come in!" said Peggy's joyous voice. Marjorie entered, and found
Peggy in the throes of indecision herself.

"You're just what I wanted to see!" said she. "Would you wear this
green silk that's grand and low, but a bit short for the last styles,
or this muslin that I graduated in, and it's as long as the moral law,
and I slashed out the neck--but a bit plain?"

"Why, that's just what I came to ask you," said Marjorie. "What kind
of clothes do you wear for dances like these?"

"Well, the grander the better, to-night, as I was telling everybody
over the telephone. Mrs. Schneider, now, the priest's housekeeper, she
has a red sa