--"

"Do I?" I cuts in. "Well, you don't think I'm goin' to the office like
this, do you?"

She does. Insists that Mr. Ellins will expect it.

"Besides," says she, "it is in the army regulations that you must. If
you don't--well, I'm not sure whether it is treason or mutiny."

"Hal-lup!" says I. "I surrender."

So I starts for town lookin' as warlike as if I'd just come from a front
trench, and feelin' like a masquerader who'd lost his way to the
ball-room.

In the office, Old Hickory gives me the thorough up-and-down. It's a
genial, fatherly sort of inspection, and he ends it with a satisfied
grunt.

"Good-morning, Lieutenant," says he. "I see you have--er--got 'em on.
And, allow me to mention, rather a good fit, sir."

I gasps. Sirred by Old Hickory! Do you wonder I got fussed? But he only
chuckles easy, waves me to take a chair, and goes on with:

"What's the word from the Syracuse sector?"

At that, I gets my breath back.

"Fairly good deal up there, sir," says I. "They're workin' in a carload
or so of wormy ash for the shovel handles, and some of the steel runs
below test; but most of their stuff grades well. I'll have my notes
typed off right away."

After I've filed my report I should have ducked. But this habit of
stickin' around the shop is hard to break. And that's how I happen to be
on hand when the lady in gray drifts in for her chatty confab with Mr.
Ellins.

Seems she held quite a block of our preferred, for when Vincent lugs in
her card Old Hickory spots the name right away as being on our
widow-and-orphan list that we wave at investigatin' committees.

"Ah, yes!" says he. "Mrs. Parker Smith. Show her in, boy."

Such a quiet, gentle, dignified party she is, her costume tonin' in with
her gray hair, and an easy way of speakin' and all, that my first guess
is she might be the head of an old ladies' home.

"Mr. Ellins," says she, "I am looking for my niece."

"Are you?" says Mr. Ellins, "Humph! Hardly think we could be of service
in such a case."

"Oh!" says she. "I--I am so sorry."

"Lost, is she?" suggests Mr. Ellins, weakenin'.

"She is somewhere in New York," goes on Mrs. Parker Smith. "Of course, I
know it is an imposition to trouble you with such a matter. But I
thought you might have someone in your office who--who----"

"We have," says he. "Torchy,--er--I mean, Lieutenant,--Mrs. Parker
Smith. Here, madam, is a young man who will find your niece for you at
once. In private