g-dish and a
percolator. She wore her nurse's outfit of white linen. She looked
well in it, and she was apt to put it on after dinner, when she was in
charge of the office.

"You know better than to feed a man on stardust, don't you?" the Doctor
persisted.

Hilda lifted the cover of the chafing-dish and stirred the contents.
"Well, yes," she smiled at him, "you see, I have lived longer than
Jean. She'll learn."

"I don't want to learn," Jean told her hotly. "I want to believe
that--that--" Words failed her.

"That men can live on star-dust?" her father asked gently. "Well, so
be it. We won't quarrel with her, will we, Hilda?"

The oysters were very good. Jean ate several with healthy appetite.
Her father, twinkling, teased her, "You see--?"

She shrugged, "All the same, I didn't need them."

Hilda, putting things back on the tray, remarked: "There was a message
from Mrs. Witherspoon. Her son is on leave for the week end. She
wants you for dinner on Saturday night--both of you."

Doctor McKenzie tapped a finger on the table thoughtfully, "Oh, does
she? Do you want to go, Jeanie?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"I am not sure. I should like to build a fence about you, my dear, and
never let a man look over. Ralph Witherspoon wants to marry her,
Hilda, what do you think of that?"

"Well, why not?" Hilda laid her long hands flat on the table, leaning
on them.

Jean felt little prickles of irritability. "Because I don't want to
get married, Hilda."

Hilda gave her a sidelong glance, "Of course you do. But you don't
know it."

She went out with her tray. Jean turned, white-faced, to her father,
"I wish she wouldn't say such things--"

"My dear, I am afraid you don't quite do her justice."

"Oh, well, we won't talk about her. I've got to go to bed, Daddy."

She kissed him wistfully. "Sometimes I think there are two of you, the
one that likes me, and the one that likes Hilda."

With his hands on her shoulders, he gave an easy laugh. "Who knows?
But you mustn't have it on your mind. It isn't good for you."

"I shall always have you on my mind--."

"But not to worry about, baby. I'm not worth it--."

Hilda came in with the evening paper. "Have you read it, Doctor?"

"No." He glanced at the headlines and his face grew hard. "More
frightfulness," he said, stormily. "If I had my way, it should be an
eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. For every man they have tortured,
there should be on