ve remembered that careless injunction, and have obeyed it.
There lies awaiting his return the pile of snowy linen, but we have not
heard from him for long, long weeks, and sometimes my heart seems
breaking, with the constant dread that haunts it. Do you wonder now that
I love my dear little wheel?"

Impulsive, warm-hearted, patriotic Dorris ends with a little sob in her
voice, and L'Estrange welcomes the entrance of the host and hostess of
the old-time mansion, as it covers the awkward emotion of the moment. As
he advances to pay his _devoirs_ to them Keith Endicott seizes his
opportunity to say softly, as he bends over the head buried in the now
idle hands:--

"Sweet friend, you said you wished you were a man, to fight for the
flag; remember, even though 'tis hard, 'They also serve who only stand
and wait.'"

Then, while Dorris tries to change the sob into words, he follows the
others into the wide, long hall, where the breezes, sweeping in through
the open doors at either end, fill the summer air with delicious
coolness, and the scent of roses mingles with that of newly-mown clover.
The breezes, too, bring to Dorris bits of conversation from the hall;
but they fall on unheeding ears until an abrupt speech from her uncle
claims her attention.

"Endicott," says his voice, "why don't you join the army? Such men are
being called for,--young, strong, and able. Why don't you go?"

Dorris almost holds her breath as she awaits the answer. She scarcely
knows how many times she has asked herself that very question. The
answer comes quietly, almost indolently, though she knows that
Endicott's reticent nature must be annoyed beyond measure.

"Why don't I? Really, I do not know, sir. Young, strong, and able, an
idle fellow enough. I think it must be because it hurts, and I'm a
dreadfully selfish fellow."

What reply could be made to his careless, easy tones? And the talk
drifted smoothly on--the more smoothly, perhaps, since no one believed a
word that he said, for Keith Endicott ere this had earned the name of
the soul of bravery and honor; but Dorris dropped to the ground the
roses that had lain all this time in her lap, as if an unseen thorn had
wounded her, and, rising, went away to her own cosey room, where she
flung herself into an arm-chair and fell into a deep study, looking from
her window through the trees to where the blue waters of the Charles
gleamed and rippled in the sunlight. It was a lovely spot, this hom