the small flag that fluttered over her humble
dwelling sent a corresponding ripple along her spinal column. When she
essayed to sing "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," in her high, quavering
soprano, she invariably broke down from sheer excess of emotion. But the
American army fighting for right and freedom in France, and the Army
individually tracking mud into her spotless cottage, were two very
different things. Miss Mink had always regarded a man in her house much
as she regarded a gnat in her eye. There was but one course to pursue in
either case--elimination!

But her firm stand in the matter had not been maintained without much
misgiving. Every Sunday when Dr. Morris made his earnest appeal,
something within urged her to comply. She was like an automobile that
gets cranked up and then refuses to go. Church-going instead of being
her greatest joy came to be a nightmare. She no longer lingered in the
vestibule, for those highly cherished exchanges of inoffensive gossip
that constituted her social life. Nobody seemed to have time for her.
Every one was busy with a soldier. Within the sanctuary it was no
better. Each khaki-clad figure that dotted the congregation claimed her
attention as a possible candidate for hospitality. And each one that
presented himself to her vision was indignantly repudiated. One was too
old, another too young, one too stylish, another had forgotten to wash
his ears. She found a dozen excuses for withholding her invitation.

But this morning as she sat upright and uncompromising in her short pew,
she was suddenly thrown into a state of agitation by the appearance in
the aisle of an un-ushered soldier who, after hesitating beside one or
two pews, slipped into the seat beside her. It seemed almost as if
Providence had taken a hand and since she had refused to select a
soldier, had prompted a soldier to select her.

During the service she sat gazing straight at the minister without
comprehending a word that he said. Never once did her glance stray to
that khaki-clad figure beside her, but her thoughts played around him
like lightning. What if she should get up her courage and ask him to
dinner, how would she ever be able to walk out the street with him! And
once she had got him to her cottage, what on earth would she talk to him
about? Her hands grew cold as she thought about it. Yet something warned
her it was now or never, and that it was only by taking the hated step
and getting it over with, tha