ed as he relaxed in
familiar comfort. "If you just had one of those linen things you used to
work on, and--"

The ball of white, like a crumpled handkerchief, which had been lying
idle in the girl's lap was unrolled and, before the speaker's eyes, there
appeared against the colorless background a clover with four leaves.

"Elice!" It was unfeigned surprise. "Is this another regiment or are you
still working on that last one yet?"

The girl sorted her silks in demure impassivity.

"Another regiment entirely--or is it an army? I've forgotten how many
comprise a regiment." She went to work with steady fingers. "These lunch
cloths of mine are becoming as staple as soap or quinine."

Roberts watched as the needle went through and through, but he did not
smile. He could not.

"Another regiment! Then I haven't really been sleeping," he said. "For a
moment when that four-leafed clover showed--By the way, do you happen to
recall what day of the month this is?"

"Yes." The girl's eyes did not leave her work. "I remembered it the first
thing when I got up this morning."

"You remembered? And still you were surprised when I came. Didn't you
think I'd remember too?"

"I didn't doubt it."

"And come to commemorate the date, December the sixth?"

"Commemorate, yes. Come? I didn't know. I hoped--until it grew dark;
then--one loses certainty alone after dark."

"It wasn't that which you had expected all day to happen, though," said
Roberts, evenly.

The girl did not dissimulate.

"No," she said simply.

One step nearer had they approached the mystery, one step only, but the
man came no further--then.

"And weren't you going to commemorate it yourself, since you remembered?"
he digressed.

"Yes, I have done so. I've been celebrating all day. I haven't washed a
dish; they're all stacked out in the kitchen. And this--" she stood up
deliberately and turned about that the other might see--"is my party
gown, worn in honor of the occasion." She returned to her place and
again the needle passed methodically in and out of the linen. "Are you
satisfied?"

"Satisfied!" It was the rebellious cry of a dominant thing trapped and
suffering. "Satisfied!" By pure force of will he held back the flood.
"Elice, won't you please put up that work--for to-night? It's--ghastly."

As though paralyzed, the white hands paused, for half a minute lay idle.
Without comment she obeyed.

"You know what I mean," said the man. "It makes me irr