aduating ball, and thinks something ought to be
done to those young idiots of yearlings who set off the torpedo.
"Nothing could have gone wrong but for them," says he; but the wise
heads of the class promptly snub him into silence. "You've simply got to
do as we say in this matter, Billy. You've done enough mischief
already." And so it results that the message he sends by Uncle Jack is:
"Tell mother and Nan I'll meet them at the 'hop.' My confinements end at
eight o'clock, but there's no use in my going to the hotel and tramping
through the mud." The truth is, he cannot bear to meet Miriam Stanley,
and 'twould be just his luck.

One year ago no happier, bonnier, brighter face could have been seen at
the Point than that of Nannie McKay. To-night, in all the throng of fair
women and lovely girls, gathered with their soldier escort in the great
mess-hall, there is none so sad. She tries hard to be chatty and
smiling, but is too frank and honest a little soul to have much success.
The dances that Phil Stanley had engaged months and months ago are
accredited now to other names, and blissful young fellows in gray and
gold come successively to claim them. But deep down in her heart she
remembers the number of each. It was he who was to have been her escort.
It was he who made out her card and gave it to her only a day or two
before that fatal interview. It was he who was to have had the last
waltz--the very last--that he would dance in the old cadet gray; and
though new names have been substituted for his in other cases, this
waltz she meant to keep. Well knowing that there would be many to beg
for it, she has written Willy's name for "Stanley," and duly warned him
of the fact. Then, when it comes, she means to escape to the
dressing-room, for she is promptly told that her brother is engaged to
Miss Waring for that very waltz. Light as are her feet, she never yet
has danced with so heavy a heart. The rain still pours, driving
everybody within doors. The heat is intense. The hall is crowded, and it
frequently happens that partners cannot find her until near the end of
their number on that dainty card. But every one has something to say
about Phil Stanley and the universal regret at his absence. It is
getting to be more than she can bear,--this prolonged striving to
respond with proper appreciation and sympathy, yet not say too
much,--not betray the secret that is now burning, throbbing in her
girlish heart. He does not dream it