omething about it, and the pleasant
vine-hung house, and the sense of restfulness moved her with a
wistful impulse that he, too, should share a little of the home
welcome that awaited her from her own kin.

"Will you remain and dine with us, Mr. Berkley?"

He looked up, so frankly surprised at her kindness that it hurt her
all through.

"I want to be friends with you," she said impulsively. "Didn't you
know it?"

They had halted at the foot of the stoop.

"I should think you could see how easy it would he for us to become
friends," she said with pretty self-possession. But her heart was
beating violently.

His pulses, too, were rapping out a message to his intelligence:
"You had better not go in," it ran. "You are not fit to go in.
You had better keep away from her. You know what will happen if
you don't."

As they entered the house her sister-in-law rose from the piano in
the front parlour and came forward.

"_Were_ you worried, dearest?" cried Ailsa gaily. "I really
couldn't help it. And Mr. Berkley lost his hat, and I've brought
him back to dinner."

CHAPTER VII

To Berkley the times were surcharged with agreeable agitation. A
hullabaloo diverted him. He himself was never noisy; but agitated
and noisy people always amused him.

Day after day the city's multi-coloured militia regiments passed
through its echoing streets; day after day Broadway resounded with
the racket of their drums. Rifles, chasseurs, zouaves, foot
artillery, pioneers, engineers, rocket batteries, the 79th
Highlanders, dismounted lancers of the 69th and dragoons of the
8th--every heard-of and unheard-of unnecessary auxiliary to a
respectable regiment of state infantry, mustered for inspection and
marched away in polychromatic magnificence. Park, avenue, and
square shrilled with their windy fifes; the towering sides of the
transports struck back the wild music of their bands; Castle
William and Fort Hamilton saluted them from the ferries to the
Narrows; and, hoarse with cheering, the people stared through dim
eyes till the last stain of smoke off Sandy Hook vanished seaward.
All of which immensely diverted Berkley.

The city, too, had become a thoroughfare for New England and
Western troops hurrying pell-mell toward the capital and that
unknown bourne so vaguely defined as the "seat of war." Also all
avenues were now dotted with barracks and recruiting stations,
around which crowds clamoured. Fire Zouaves, Imperi