nt McGillicuddy could keep from Mrs. McGillicuddy the details of
what had occurred on the aviation field, but he could not conceal from
her the fact that he was unhappy and conscience-stricken. All he would
say to his wife was:

"I've done a man a wrong. I never meant it, as both God and the
Colonel know." McGillicuddy had a way of bracketing the Deity with
commanding officers, and did it with much simplicity and meant no
irreverence.

"And I know it too, Patrick," replied Mrs. McGillicuddy, with the faith
of a true wife in her husband.

"I'd tell you all about it, Araminta," said the poor Sergeant, "but the
Colonel forbid me, and orders is orders."

"I know it," answered Mrs. McGillicuddy, "and I'll trust you, Patrick,
I won't ever ask you the name because I can guess it easy. It's
Lawrence."

The Sergeant groaned.

"If you can do anything for Mrs. Lawrence," he said, "or the boy----"

"I'll do it," valiantly replied Mrs. McGillicuddy, and straightway put
her good words into effect.

Lawrence had then been missing five days. It was seven o'clock in the
evening, and Mrs. McGillicuddy had already put the After-Clap to bed
when she started for Mrs. Lawrence's quarters. There was no one to
open the door, and Mrs. McGillicuddy walked unceremoniously into the
little sitting-room, where the boy sat, silent and lonely and
frightened, by the window. Mrs. McGillicuddy spoke a cheery word to
him, and then passed into the bedroom beyond. The light was dim but
she could see Mrs. Lawrence lying, fully dressed, on the bed. At the
sight of Mrs. McGillicuddy she turned her face away.

"Come now," said Mrs. McGillicuddy undauntedly, "I think I know why you
don't want to see me. Well, Patrick McGillicuddy is as good a man as
wears shoe-leather, but every Sergeant that ever lived has made some
sort of a mistake in his life. So Patrick wants me to do all I can for
you until something turns up, and I hope that something will be your
husband--and my husband will be mighty easy on him at the
court-martial."

Mrs. Lawrence made no reply. Then Mrs. McGillicuddy went into the
little kitchen, and stirring up the fire soon had a comfortable meal
ready, and calling to the little boy, gave him his first good supper in
the five days that had passed since his father came no more.

"You'd feel sorry for McGillicuddy if you could see him," Mrs.
McGillicuddy kept on, ignoring Mrs. Lawrence's cold silence. "And
recollect, if yo