he point at which they were broken off in the
orchard that September afternoon a year and a half ago? Why not? Mandy
was apparently greatly changed, greatly improved. Well, he was delighted
at the improvement, and he would frankly let her see his pleasure and
approval. There was no need for embarrassment. Pshaw! Embarrassment? He
felt none.

And yet as he stood at the door of the nurses' tent he was disquieted to
find himself nervously wondering what in thunder he should talk about.
As it turned out there was no cause for nervousness on this score. The
little nurse and the doctor--Nurse Haley being on duty--kept the stream
of talk rippling and sparkling in an unbroken flow. Whenever a pause did
occur they began afresh with Cameron and his achievements, of which they
strove to make him talk. But they ever returned to their own work among
the sick and wounded of the camps, and as often as they touched this
theme the pivot of their talk became Nurse Haley, till Cameron began to
suspect design and became wrathful. They were talking at him and were
taking a rise out of him. He would show them their error. He at once
became brilliant.

In the midst of his scintillation he abruptly paused and sat listening.
Through the tent walls came the sound of singing, low-toned, rich,
penetrating. He had no need to ask about that voice. In silence they
looked at him and at each other.

"We're going home, no more to roam,
No more to sin and sorrow,
No more to wear the brow of care,
We're going home to-morrow.

"We're going home; we're going home;
We're going home to-morrow."

Softer and softer grew the music. At last the voice fell silent. Then
Nurse Haley appeared, radiant, fresh, and sweet as a clover field with
the morning dew upon it, but with a light as of another world upon her
face.

With the spell of her voice, of her eyes, of her radiant face upon him,
Cameron's scintillation faded and snuffed out. He felt like a boy at his
first party and enraged at himself for so feeling. How bright she was,
how pure her face under the brown gold hair, how dainty the bloom upon
her cheek, and that voice of hers, and the firm lithe body with curving
lines of budding womanhood, grace in every curve and movement! The Mandy
of old faded from his mind. Have I seen you before? And where? And how
long ago? And what's happening to me? With these questions he vexed
his soul while he strove to keep track of the conve