hat nice kind of way. It helped. But that's all--so I hope he
doesn't care very much for me. Though if he does," concluded Ann sagely,
"he'll get over it. He's not the caring sort."

The words had a familiar sound; after a moment she remembered them as
what he had said that night of the "Don't You Care" girls.

While she would have been panic-stricken at finding Ann interested, she
was more discomfited than relieved at not finding her more impressed. "To
marry into the army, Ann," she said, "is considered very advantageous."

Ann was lying there with her face pillowed upon her hand. She turned her
large eyes, about which just then there were large circles, seriously, it
would even seem rebukingly, upon Katie. "If I ever should marry," she
said, "it will be for some other reason than because it is
'advantageous.'"

Katie felt both rebuked and startled. Most of the girls she knew--girls
who had never worked in factories or restaurants or telephone offices, or
had never thought of taking their own lives, had not scorned to look upon
marriages as advantageous.

Nor, for that matter, had Katie herself.

Ann's superior attitude toward marriage turned Katie to religion. As the
niece of a bishop she was moved to set Ann right on things within a
bishop's domain. And underlying that was an impulse to set her right
with herself.

"Ann," she said, "if somebody said to you, 'I starve you in the name of
Katie Jones,' wouldn't you say, 'Oh no you don't. Starve me if you want
to, but don't tell me you do it in the name of Katie Jones. She doesn't
want people starved!'"

"I could say that," said Ann, "because I know you, and know you don't
want people starved. But if I'd never heard anything about you except
that I was to be starved in your name--"

"I should think even so you might question. Didn't it ever occur to you
that God had more to do with your Something Somewhere than He did with
things done in His name in Centralia?"

"Why, Katie, how strange you should think of that. For I thought of
it--but I supposed it was the most wicked thought of all."

"How strange it would be," said Katie, "if He had more to do with the
'call' than with the God-fearing things you were called from."

For an instant Ann's face lighted up. But it hardened. "Well, if He had,"
she said, "it seems He might have stood by me a little better after I was
'called.'"

Katie had no reply for that, so she turned to her uncle, the Bishop.

"Well th