led it by pulling straws, as many a
question had been decided in the old school days. This reversed the
assignment, and the rear room became Miss Sanford's. The view from the
window was not attractive. Immediately beneath was the shingle roofing
of the dining-room and kitchen annex, stretching out to the servants'
rooms and sheds beyond. The yard, like all its fellows, was bare and
brown, for nothing would grow on such a soil. Rough, unpainted wooden
fences separated them one from another; rough cow-sheds, coal-sheds, or
wood-sheds were braced up against the fences, and back of all the yards
along the row ran a high rickety barrier of boards, as rough and
unprepossessing as the others. Beyond this fence lay a triangular space
of open prairie ornamented only by ash-barrels and occasional heaps of
empty cans awaiting the coming of the "police cart." Beyond this space
stood the big brown hospital on the north; the back-yards of the
surgeon's and sutler's quarters on the east; while the hypothenuse of
the right-angled triangle thus limited was the unsightly fence that
bounded the back-yards of officers' row. Mr. Dick Swiveller's delightful
view "of over the way" was a gem of landscape in comparison.

But for such gloomy outlook Miss Sanford had little thought. She went to
the window to draw the curtain, and far out across the distant prairie
slopes, where she could see them at all, the moon was throwing her
silvery beams, while closer at hand broad, irregular wastes of blackness
sailed over the dry plateau as the clouds that caused them drifted
across the dazzling face. Harsh and unlovely as were the surroundings by
day, they lost something of their asperity under the softening shimmer
of that mystic light. Far down by the stables she could hear the ringing
watch-call of the sentries proclaiming half-past twelve o'clock and all
well, and then--and then as a cloud floated away and the bright beams
poured down in unhindered radiance, she became aware of a form enveloped
in a cavalry overcoat standing in the corner of the fence. She could see
the moonlight glinting on the polished insignia,--the crossed
sabres,--on the front of his forage-cap, and though she could not see
the face, she knew it was that of Sergeant Wolf.

Captain and Mrs. Truscott were still below. She could hear them putting
out the parlor lamps and locking the doors. She could hear a quick
footstep on the hard-beaten walk in front and the clink of a scabbard,