see Dorn again pretty soon. Do you want to go?"

Lenore gave a little start, as if the question had surprised her.

"I--I hardly think so," she replied.

"It's just as well," he said. "That'll be a hard ride.... Guess I'll
clean up a little for supper."

Anderson left the room, and, while Kathleen and Rose gleefully squabbled
over the bundles, Lenore continued to gaze dreamily out of the window.

* * * * *

That night Lenore went early to her room, despite the presence of some
young people from a neighboring village. She locked her door and sat in
the dark beside her open window.

An early moon silvered the long slopes of wheat and made the alfalfa
squares seem black. A cool, faint, sweet breeze fanned her cheek. She
could smell the fragrance of apples, of new-mown hay, and she could hear
the low murmur of running water. A hound bayed off somewhere in the
fields. There was no other sound. It was a quiet, beautiful, pastoral
scene. But somehow it did not comfort Lenore.

She seemed to doubt the sincerity of what she saw there and loved so
well. Moon-blanched and serene, lonely and silent, beautiful and
promising, the wide acres of "Many Waters," and the silver slopes and
dark mountains beyond, did not tell the truth. 'Way over the dark ranges
a hideous war had stretched out a red hand to her country. Her only
brother had left his home to fight, and there was no telling if he would
ever come back. Evil forces were at work out there in the moonlight.
There had come a time for her to be thoughtful.

Her father's asking her to ride to the Bend country had caused some
strange little shock of surprise. Lenore had dreamed without thinking.
Here in the darkness and silence, watching the crescent moon slowly
sink, she did think. And it was to learn that she remembered singularly
well the first time she had seen young Dorn, and still more vividly the
second time, but the third time seemed both clear and vague. Enough
young men had been smitten with Lenore to enable her to gauge the
symptoms of these easy-come, easy-go attractions. In fact, they rather
repelled her. But she had found Dorn's manner striking, confusing, and
unforgettable. And why that should be so interested her intelligence.

It was confusing to discover that she could not lay it to the sympathy
she had felt for an American boy in a difficult position, because she
had often thought of him long before she had any idea who he w