d dine. The Judge had agreed, stipulating that there should be
no change in the evening hour. "Serve it in courses, if you like, and
call it dinner. But don't have it before candle-light."

So the moon was up when Becky came down in her blue dress. She had not
expected to wear the blue. In spite of the fact that Randy and his
mother and Major Prime had come back with them for dinner, she had
planned to wear her old white, which had been washed and laid out on
the bed by Mandy. But the blue was more becoming, and the man with the
Apollo head had eyes to see.

She came into the Bird Room with a candle in her hand. There was a
lamp high up, but she could not reach it, so she always carried a
candle. She set it down on the case where the Bob-whites were cuddled
in brown groups. She whistled a note, and listened to catch the
answer. It had been a trick of hers as a child, and she had heard them
whistle in response. She had been so sure that she heard them--a
far-off silvery call----

Well, why not? Might not their little souls be fluttering close? "You
darlings," she said aloud.

Randy, arriving at that moment on the threshold, heard her. "You are
playing the old game," he said.

"Oh, yes,", she caught her breath, "Do you remember?"

He came into the room. "I remembered a thousand times when I was in
France. I thought of this room and of the Trumpeter Swan, and of how
you and I used to listen on still nights and think we heard him.
There was one night after an awful day--with a moon like this over the
battlefield, and across the moon came a black, thin streak--and a bugle
sounded--far away. I was half asleep, and I said, 'Becky, there's the
swan,' and the fellow next to me poked his elbow in my ribs, and said,
'You're dreaming.' But I wasn't--quite, for the thin black streak was
a Zeppelin----"

She came up close to him and laid her hand on his arm. He towered
above her. "Randy," she asked, "was the war very dreadful?"

"Yes," he said, "it was. More dreadful than you people at home can
ever grasp. But I want you to know this, Becky, that there isn't one
of us who wouldn't go through it again in the same cause."

There was no swagger in his statement, just simple earnestness. The
room was very still for a moment.

Then Becky said, "Well, it's awfully nice to have you home again," and
Randy, looking down at the little hand on his arm, had to hold on to
himself not to put his own over it.