ht
have a cigarette, too. I meant these rooms as smoking-rooms."

"Then you must come, too."

"No, no, major. You must remember that I am the hostess."

"But there is no one to entertain. They are all entertaining each
other. You are too unselfish."

"But really, major--"

"Sure you are tired out and need a little rest."

He held the door open so persuasively that she yielded. It was a snug
little room, somewhat retired from the bustle, with two or three
chintz-covered chairs scattered round it, and a sofa of the same
material at one side. The widow sat down at one end of this sofa, and
the major perched himself at the other, looking even redder than usual,
and puffing out his chest and frowning, as was his custom upon critical
occasions.

"Do light a cigarette?" said Mrs. Scully.

"But the smell?"

"I like it."

The major extracted one from his flat silver case. His companion rolled
a spill and lit it at the gas.

"To one who is as lonely as I am," she remarked, "it Is a pleasure to
feel that one has friends near one, and to serve them even in trifles."

"Lonely!" said the major, shuffling along the sofa, "I might talk with
authority on that point. If I were to turn me toes up to-morrow there's
not a human being would care a thraneen about the mather, unless it were
old Von Baumser."

"Oh, don't talk so," cried Mrs. Scully, with emotion.

"It is a fact. I've kicked against me fate at times, though. I've had
fancies of late of something happier and cheerier. They have come on me
as I sat over yonder at the window, and, do what I will, I have not been
able to git them from me heart. Yit I know how rash I have been to
treasure them, for if they fail me I shall feel me loneliness as I niver
did before."

The major paused and cleared his throat huskily, while the widow
remained silent, with her head bent and her eyes intent upon the pattern
of the carpet.

"These hopes are," said the major, in a low voice, leaning forward and
taking his companion's little ring-covered hand in his thick, pudgy
fingers, "that you will have pity upon me; that you will--"

"Ach, my very goot vriend!" cried Von Baumser heartily, suddenly
protruding his hairy head into the room and smiling benignantly.

"Go to the divil!" roared the major, springing furiously to his feet,
while the German's head disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box.
"Forgive the warmth of me language," the veteran continued,
apologetically, "but