e
distinctive thing about Katie was that there always seemed a certain
light about her, upon her, coming from her. Usually it was as iridescent
lights dancing upon the water; but to-night it was more as one light, a
more steady, deeper light. It made her gray eyes almost black; made her
clear-cut nose and chin seem more finely chiseled than they actually
were, and brought out both the strength and the tenderness of her not
very small mouth. Katie's friends, when pinned down to it, always
admitted with some little surprise that she was not pretty; they made
amends for that, however, in saying that she just missed being beautiful.
"But that's not what you think of when you see her," they would tell you.
"You think, 'What a good sort! She must be great fun!'" And there were
some few who would add: "Katie is the kind you would expect to find doing
splendid service in that last ditch."

Yet even those few were not familiar with the Katie Jones of that moment,
for it was a new Katie, less new when leaning forward, tense, puzzled,
hand clenched, brow knitted, her whole well-knit, athletic body at
attention than when leaning back--lax, open to new and awesome things.
And as though she must come back where she felt acquainted with herself,
she suddenly began to whistle. Katie found whistling a convenient and
pleasant recepticle for excess emotion. She had enjoyed it when a little
girl because she had been told it was unladylike; kept it up to find out
if it were really true that it would spoil her mouth, and now liked doing
it because she could do it so successfully.

She was still whistling herself back to familiar things as she ran
lightly up the stairs; had warmed to a long final trill as she stood in
the doorway. The girl looked up in amazement. She had been sitting there,
elbows on her knees, face in her hands. It was hard to see what might
have been seen in her face because at that moment the chief thing seen
was astonishment. Katie slipped down among the pillows of the couch, an
arm curled about her head. "Didn't know I could do that, did you?" she
laughed. "Oh yes, I have several accomplishments. Whistling is perhaps
the chiefest thereof. Then next I think would come golf. My game's not
bad. Then there are a few wizardy things I do with a chafing dish, and
lastly, and after all lastly should be firstly, is my genius for getting
everything and everybody into a most hopeless mess."

The girl moved impatiently at first, a