uch to be said, and it lasted
until the sun dropped low in the west and the early twilight shadows
fell.

A sudden loud ring of the doorbell sent Marjorie scurrying to the door.
She opened it to find a messenger boy, bearing a long, white box with
the name of Sanford's principal florist upon it.

"For Miss Marjorie Dean," said the boy, handing her the box.

"Oh!" ejaculated the surprised lieutenant, almost dropping the box in
her astonishment. Carrying it to the living-room table, she lifted the
lid and exclaimed again over its fragrant contents. Exquisite,
long-stemmed pink roses had been someone's tribute to Marjorie, and a
card tucked in among their perfumed petals proclaimed that someone to be
Harold Macy. At the bottom of the card was inscribed in Hal's boyish
hand, "To my friend, Marjorie Dean, a real heroine."

Marjorie had scarcely recovered from this pleasant shock when her father
appeared upon the scene and gathered her into his arms with an anxious,
"How's my brave little lieutenant?"

"Why, General, who told you?" cried Marjorie. "I never dreamed you'd
hear of it."

"It came to me through Mr. Arnold, who has the next office to mine,"
said Mr. Dean. "Mrs. Arnold telephoned him as soon as her daughter
reached home. She was afraid he might hear an incorrect report of it
from some other source."

"We never thought of that. We should have telephoned you. But it's my
fault. I kept mother up in my room and talked so long to her that she
forgot it," avowed Marjorie, apologetically.

"It's too late for apologies," Mr. Dean assumed an air of deep injury.
Then he laughed and drew from his coat pocket a small package. "Here's
an appreciation of bravery," he declared. "To the brave belongs the
golden circlet of courage. We might also call it your commission to
first lieutenancy. I think you've won your promotion."

Marjorie's second surprise was a gold bracelet, delicately chased, for
which she had sighed more than once.

Sunday dawned as radiantly as had the preceding day. Marjorie went to
church in a peculiarly exalted mood, and came home feeling at peace with
the world. After dinner she took a book and went out into a little
vine-covered pagoda built at one end of the lawn, which was fitted with
rustic seats and a small table. Here it was that she and her captain had
planned to spend many of the long summer afternoons reading and sewing,
and it was here that Marcia found her.

"I have something for you,