lled on Blake when
Ray was "up the row," but had not left their cards or inquired for his
comrade. Blake thought it simply a piece of forgetfulness. Perhaps they
had asked and he had forgotten; but Ray thought otherwise, and still,
oddly enough, did not seem to care. He was happy in his day, and life
had a new, strange, sweet interest for him that, despite his past
ephemeral flames for one belle after another, was seriously influencing
his life and character.

Blake wrote to his chums in the regiment that Billy Ray wasn't half the
fun he used to be. "Never knew a fellow lose all his old self so quick.
He has gone back on potations and poker, and it hasn't improved him a
whit." There was another thing Blake growled at: Ray was mixed up in
some garrison mystery, and wouldn't tell him anything about it. He had
"pumped him," so to speak, because Mrs. Turner kept nagging him for
information, and Ray had only colored and stumbled painfully, and
finally burst forth with, "See here, Blake; something _has_ happened
that I accidentally got mixed up in, but it's a thing a man can't tell
of, so don't ask me;" and Blake could only surmise. Then, too, there was
that desertion of Wolf's,--Ray knew something about it,--and then the
colonel had asked him--Blake--a point-blank question about Ray's habits
which amazed him and set him to thinking. Then no mail was received from
the regiment for four days, and they were all anxious; and so this
bright August morning quite a party had gathered in front of Truscott's,
for a little batch of letters had just arrived, and they were discussing
contents and comparing notes. When Mrs. Stannard came down-stairs,
blithe and breezy as ever, the ladies began their natural inquiries for
Mrs. Truscott. She had enjoyed a good night's rest, at times at least,
but had a severe nervous headache this morning. This had prompted Mrs.
Turner to remark that nervous headaches were such trying things; she
could never control them except by liberal use of bromides. Mrs. Wilkins
was of opinion that if ever she had one she'd cut her head off before
she'd use the likes--such stuff as that; lapsing very nearly into the
vernacular of her early days; and Mrs. Whaling calmly announced that
nothing ever did her so much good as a warm embryocation, whereat there
was suppressed sensation on part of the ladies and convulsive throes by
Mr. Blake. Ray and Miss Sanford, absorbed in converse on the weather,
were standing apart at