e back three days since, Heaven be praised! afther bein'
gone three years."

"Three years," repeated Peter again. "Why was she gone three years?"

Hennessy eyed him narrowly for a moment. "A lot of blitherin' fools sent
her away, that's what, an' she not much more than graduated. Suspension,
they called it."

"Suspension for what?"

The shirring in Hennessy's lips tightened, and he drew his breath in and
out in a sort of asthmatic whistle. This was the only sign of emotion ever
betrayed by Hennessy. When he spoke again he fairly whistled his words.
"If ye want to know what for--ye can ask some one else. Good night." And
with a bang to the platter Hennessy was away before Peter could stop him.

Alone with the swans, Peter lingered a moment to consider. A nurse. The
gray person a nurse! And sent away for some--some--Peter's mind groped
inadequately for a reason. Pshaw! He could smile at the absurdity of his
interest. What did it matter--or she matter--or anything matter? For a man
who has been given up, who has been sent away to a sanitarium to finish
with life as speedily and decently as he can, to stand on one leg by a
pond, for all the world like a swan himself, and wonder about a girl he
had seen but once, in a sanitarium omnibus, was absurd. And the name
Leerie? Of course they had taken it from Stevenson, but it suited. Yes,
Hennessy was right, it certainly suited.

A rustle of white skirts coming down the path attracted his attention. It
was his nurse, through supper, coming like a commandant to take him in
charge. Thirty-seven, in a sanitarium, with a nurse attendant! Peter
groaned inwardly. It was monstrous, a cowardly, blackguard attack of an
unthinking Creator on a human being--a decent human being--who might
be--who wanted to be--of some use in the world. For a breath he wanted to
roar forth blasphemy after blasphemy against the universe and its Maker,
but in the next breath he suddenly realized how little he cared. With a
smile almost tragically senile, he let the nurse lead him away.

And all the while a girl was leaning over the sill of the little
rest-house, watching him. It was a girl with a demure mouth, a determined
chin, and eyes that shone, who answered impartially to the names of
Sheila, Miss O'Leary, or Leerie. The gray was changed for the white
uniform and cap of a graduate nurse, and the change was becoming. She had
recognized him at first with casual amusement as she watched him fill her
pr