whisper to the wife of one of the
officers, "that young man has a fine voice, and he isn't bad-looking,
either. I think he'd be worth cultivating. We must have him up and try
him out."

But when she repeated this remark in another stage whisper to Forsythe
he frowned haughtily.

The one glimpse Margaret caught of Forsythe during that afternoon's
service was when he was smiling meaningly at Rosa Rogers; and she had to
resolutely put the memory of their look from her mind or the story which
she was about to tell would have fled.

It was the hunger in Jasper Kemp's eyes that finally anchored Margaret's
thoughts and helped her to forget the company at the back of the room.
She told her story, and she told it wonderfully and with power,
interpreting it now and then for the row of men who sat in the center of
the room drinking in her every word; and when the simple service was
concluded with another song, in which Gardley's voice rang forth with
peculiar tenderness and strength, the men filed forth silently,
solemnly, with bowed heads and thoughtful eyes. But the company from the
fort flowed up around Margaret like flood-tide let loose and gushed upon
her.

"Oh, my dear!" said Mrs. Temple. "How beautifully you do it! And such
attention as they give you! No wonder you are willing to forego all
other amusements to stay here and preach! But it was perfectly sweet the
way you made them listen and the way you told that story. I don't see
how you do it. I'd be scared to death!"

They babbled about her awhile, much to her annoyance, for there were
several people to whom she had wanted to speak, who drew away and
disappeared when the new-comers took possession of her. At last,
however, they mounted and rode away, to her great relief. Forsythe, it
is true, tried to make her go home with them; tried to escort her to the
Tanners'; tried to remain in the school-house with her awhile when she
told him she had something to do there; but she would not let him, and
he rode away half sulky at the last, a look of injured pride upon his
face.

Margaret went to the door finally, and looked down the road. He was
gone, and she was alone. A shade of sadness came over her face. She was
sorry that Gardley had not waited. She had wanted to tell him how much
she liked his singing, what a pleasure it was to sing with him, and how
glad she was that he came up to her need so well with the strangers
there and helped to make it easy. But Gardley had