efore now. And once I just saved a
baby-buggy and a pair of twins."

Clayton wrote him daily, and now and then there came a letter from
Natalie, cheerful on the surface, but its cheerfulness obviously forced.
And once, to his great surprise, Marion Hayden wrote him.

"I just want you to know," she said, "that I am still interested in you,
even if it isn't going to be anything else. And that I am ridiculously
proud of you. Isn't it queer to look back on last Winter and think what
a lot of careless idiots we were? I suppose war doesn't really change
us, but it does make us wonder what we've got in us. I am surprised to
find that I am a great deal better than I ever thought I was!"

There was comfort in the letter, but no thrill. He was far away from all
that now, like one on the first stage of a long journey, with his eyes
ahead.

Then one day he saw a familiar but yet strange figure striding along
the country road. Graham was map-sketching that day, and the strange but
familiar figure was almost on him when he looked up. It was extremely
military, and looked like a general at least. Also it was very red in
the face, and was clutching doggedly in its teeth an old briar pipe.
But what had appeared from the front to be an ultra military figure on
closer inspection turned out to be a procession. Pulling back hard on a
rope behind was the company goat, Elinor.

The ultra-military figure paused by Graham's sketching-stool, and said,
"Young man, do you know where this creature belongs? I found her trying
to commit suicide on the rifle range--why, Graham!"

It was Doctor Haverford. He grew a trifle less military then, and
borrowed some pipe tobacco. He looked oddly younger, Graham thought, and
rather self-conscious of his uniform.

"Every inch a soldier, Graham," he chuckled. "Still have to use a hook
and eye at the bottom of the coat--blouse," he corrected himself. "But
I'm getting my waist-line again. How's the--whoa!" he called, as Elinor
wrapped the rope around his carefully putted legs. "Infernal animal!" he
grumbled. "I just paid a quarter to have these puttees shined. How's the
family?"

"Mother has gone to Linndale. The house is finished. Have you been here
long, sir?"

"Two weeks. Hang it all, Graham, I wish I'd let this creature commit
suicide. She's--do you know Delight is here?"

"Here? Why, no."

"At the hostess house," said the chaplain, proudly. "Doing her bit, too.
Mrs. Haverford wanted to come too,