ent can do. She has declared war on Germany. We
have nothing to be ashamed of. Still, I'd feel better if we could fire a
few shots at the dirty blackguards."

"The war is over," said Olga, staring up at the stars. "The Germans are
beaten. I have said so for many months, have I not?"

"You have," agreed Malone. "But I don't see that you have anything on
the Kaiser. He said it was over in 1914."

"'Don't argue with him, Olga," said young Mrs. Malone. "He's Irish."

"Like all Irishers he's longing for something he'll never get," said
Fitts, drily.

"And what is that?" inquired Mrs. Malone.

"Home-rule," said Fitts.

Olga Obosky yawned luxuriously. "I am so sleepy. My sandals, Governor
Percivail. I am going home."

He picked up the sandals lying on the grass beside him and held them out
to her. She coolly extended one of her feet.

"It cannot bite you. Put zem on for me, your Excellency."

WEST WIND DRIFT

He knelt and, slipping the sandals on one after the other, fastened the
straps over her bare insteps.

"So," she sighed. "Thank you. Good night, Ruthkin. No! I shall go home
alone. There is nothing to be afraid of now on zis island, my dear. The
ardent Fernandez is playing--what you call it?--pea-knuckles?--he is
playing pea-knuckles away off yonder on zat prison island, as he has
been playing for nearly a year."

Little she knew of Fernandez!

Ruth and Percival walked around the corner of the porch with her, out of
sight of the others.

"It was a perfectly ravishing dance, Olga," said he. "If I live a
thousand years I shall never forget how beautiful it was."

"You see?" cried Olga softly, pressing Ruth's hand. "Was I not right?"

"Men are very queer things," said Ruth, with a curious sidelong glance
at her husband. Then she squeezed his arm tightly and went on with
a little thrill in her voice: "Good night, Olga. Thank you for the
lesson."

"What's all this?" inquired Percival.

"Nothing you would be interested in, my friend," said Olga, with a
little laugh. She waved her hand airily as she moved swiftly away in the
gloom.

They watched her yellow figure fade into the starlit shadows. As they
turned to rejoin the others, Ruth said:

"I think you might have told her how beautiful she was, dear." So much
for the native perversity of woman, even when she is most content.

He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon the soft, warm
palm. It was a habit of his,--and she never failed to