hose dyed-in-the-wool
devotees to Cranston's service,--iniquitous, feudalistic, slave-like
service Elmendorf deemed it,--old Sergeant McGrath, his better half, and
the nephew.

And while he was in the midst of this, came other helping hands.
Florence Allison's social friends were prompt to hear of her return and
of her bringing with her the objectionable aspirant, and were equally
prompt to call in eager shoals. Somewhere the impression had got abroad
that her army friend had been ordered off under a cloud, and, though no
one at head-quarters could explain it, many society people could, and
entirely to their own satisfaction. The men who knew Forrest liked him,
but few women seemed to know him at all. After standing a social siege
of some forty-eight hours, even Miss Allison's nerves gave way, and she
had to deny herself to callers. In the midst of the speculation and
sensation ensuing at the moment came the news that once more, suddenly
and without the faintest explanation, Mr. Forrest had left Chicago. "I
deeply regret your illness and that I was unable to see you to-day," he
wrote from the club to Miss Allison, "but I am ordered away on duty that
may cover several weeks, and have not a moment to spare. Tell Cary for
me that I will leave with my landlady the books I promised him. I would
urge his reading them carefully. With my regards to Mr. Allison and Mrs.
Lawrence, believe me, Yours faithfully." And this was only four days
after the luckless dinner. Florence ministered to the consuming
curiosity of her aunt and showed her the letter, but the
adjutant-general at head-quarters was less considerate; even society
reporters could extract from him no hint as to why or where Lieutenant
Forrest had gone. But that only served to stimulate conjecture and
suggestion; and, to gossips born, a little stimulant goes, like the
stories it sets afloat, long leagues beyond hope of recapture.

Then there were some lonely, anxious days for a pale-faced, slender,
sad-eyed girl who seemed to get no benefit from the bracing breezes, and
then, bursting suddenly from winter to summer, as is often the way with
our ill-ordered, turbulent, defiant, and generally indescribable
climate, came the first day of moisture-laden heat, depressing,
debilitating,--a day when the tide of his affairs swept Elmendorf from
his moorings at Cranston's and sent the freeholder thereof in search of
a stenographer,--the day when poor Jenny begged to be excused f