e all right in her case. She has
voluntarily turned Paigecourt and all the barns, quarters, farms,
and out-buildings into a base hospital for the wounded of either
army. She need not have done it; there were plenty of other
places. But she offered that beautiful old place merely because it
was more comfortable and luxurious. The medical corps have already
ruined the interior of the house; the garden with its handsome box
hedges nearly two centuries old is a wreck. She has given all the
farm horses to the ambulances; all her linen to the medical
director; all cattle, sheep, swine, poultry to the hospital
authorities; all her cellared stores, wines, luxuries to the
wounded. I repeat that she is a fine specimen of American
woman--and the staunchest little rebel I ever met."

Berkley smiled, then his bronzed face grew serious in the nickering
lantern light.

"Colonel Arran is badly hurt. Did you know it?"

"I do," said the doctor quietly. "I saw him just before I came
over here to find you."

"Would you care to tell me what you think of his chances?"

"I--don't--know. He is in considerable pain. The wound continues
healthy. They give him a great deal of morphia."

"Do you--believe----"

"I can't yet form an opinion worth giving you. Dillon, the
assistant surgeon, is an old pupil of mine. He asked me to look in
to-morrow; and I shall do so."

"I'm very glad. I was going to ask you. But--there's a good deal
of professional etiquette in these hospitals----"

"It's everywhere," said the doctor, smiling. Then his pleasant,
alert face changed subtly; he lifted the lantern absently, softly
replaced it on the veranda beside him, and gazed at it. Presently
he said:

"I came here on purpose to talk to you about another matter. . . .
Shall we step inside? Or"--he glanced sharply around, lantern held
above his head--"I guess we're better off out here."

Berkley silently assented. The doctor considered the matter in
mind for a while, nursing his knees, then looking directly at
Berkley:

"Phil, you once told roe a deliberate falsehood."

Berkley's face flushed scarlet, and he stiffened in every muscle.

The doctor said: "I merely wanted you to understand that I knew it
to be a falsehood when you uttered it. I penetrated your motive in
telling it, let it go at that, and kept both eyes open--and waited."

Berkley never moved. The painful colour stained the scar on his
brow to an ugly purple.

"Th