to acknowledge when she was in the wrong, and
with winning grace she said, as she gave him her hand:--

"I thank you for the lesson you have taught me, Max. I was wrong to
judge him so hardly, but be assured I will make full amends when we meet
again."

Then the good-bys were said, the good wishes given, and the last of
Dorris's three cavaliers had left her.

* * * * *

Summer has gone, and snow lies white upon the ground, and we find Dorris
seated before the old desk, whose secret drawer is no longer empty, but
holds a faded cluster of roses and forget-me-nots, writing busily in her
diary a record not only of the day's doings but of the varying emotions
which each day brought to life. The words the busy hand is tracing are
these:--

"Jan. 2, 1779. Yesterday was the beginning of the New Year, and as I
wondered what it would bring me,--joy or grief, pleasure or pain,--I
saw a carriage come up the drive-way and then stop, while the driver
assisted to the door a figure in a soldier's uniform. In a moment I was
in the hall, and my arms around my brother--for it was my own bravest
Roy. He had often written us, but we received none of his letters: they
were either intercepted or lost. But, oh, how can I forgive myself when
I think to whom I owe my brother's life! that, when Roy was surrounded
by enemies, and desperately wounded, it was Keith Endicott who rushed to
his aid, and, fighting against fearful odds, bore him alive from the
field, at the cost of a sabre cut on his own hand. It was he who saw Roy
daily in his long struggle with death, and when that dreadful presence
was banished it was he who cared for his safe transportation home, to
enjoy the rest which is the only means of giving him back his old
strength and vigor. And Roy almost worships Keith, as well he may,
saying he is the idol of the soldiers, who have dubbed him the hero of
the regiment.

"The New Year has truly brought me happiness, for my brother is with me
safe once more; our armies are fast gaining ground, our victories are
more numerous, and hope dawns that the flag of liberty will yet wave
triumphantly over a free and happy nation; and I can once more mingle a
song and not a sob with the busy hum of my wheel."

* * * * *

Two years have passed; Yorktown has been fought and won, and Dorris's
hopeful words are verified. The flag of liberty is unfurled over a free
and happy nation,--