"You 're not ugly, Mr. Batson. There 's scores plainer. You 've got a very nice, honest face and proper gray eyes in it, if I may say so."

"Certainly you may say so," he replied. "And I 'm very pleased to think you 've been at the trouble of marking the color of my eyes, I 'm sure. 'T is a way women have. They always know the color of their friends' eyes. And to hear as I 've got an honest face, coming from you, is a very good thing for me, because well I know you could not tell a lie even in such a trifle. And as for eyes, if your eyes was in a prettier setting, they 'd well become it. Because you 've got a proper soul, Miss Cleave, and it looks out of your eyes." "Why be you going? You can tell me surely if you can say such things as that?"

"I meddled-I-and yet-shut your mouth a minute afore we get home and let me think. A valiant thought be stirring in my mind."

She was silent, and the wind brought the rain flying horizontally into their

faces at the crown of the hill. But Thomas minded it no more than a cow. For a quarter of a mile no word passed between them; then he spoke again.

"Come in here under these hollies," he said. "You 'd like me to bide at Falcon Farm, seemingly?"

"I should, then. You 've got a nice way, and you 've always been amazing pitiful for me."

"I felt you was a rare good sort of woman under your skin, and did n't get the fame you did ought. You be one of the sort took at your own small valuation. Yet where would your father be if you left him?"

"I'll never leave him. He knows that."

"Never 's a long day. How old might you be?"

"Thirty-five last June."

"They say port-wine marks are handed down; but I don't know if 't is true. And if you was to hand down that, you'd also hand down what 's better, I should n't wonder."

She did not answer.

"Look here, Nancy, how would it be if us was to be married? It have just come over me like a flame of fire. Oh, hell!"

The last expletive was occasioned by an accident. The bottle of brown sherry had trembled dangerously before; now it dropped from the woman's hand, broke on a stone, and spread its contents in the wet moss at their feet. The sweet air suddenly reeked of it. "Me! My God, you must be mad!" "Why? I never thought to marry, being little addicted to the females. In fact, my mother was the only one as ever I cared a cuss about. And no doubt, for your part, you'd long despaired of the males; but it have been borne in upon me the last ten minutes that you 'm being properly wasted as a spinster. I say that most steadfast because I've had the good fortune to look through you and see the light within. I do think us would suit each other cruel, well, Nancy."

""T is beyond dreaming!" "Then say 'yes' and make it real." "You be above yourself for the minute. Best to think it over and go to church and pray to God and let a Sunday pass. I can't believe you mean it, Thomas. 'T is beyond belief."

"Sunday be the day for calling out in church."

"My father?"

Say

" "T is you, not your father. you will, and put me on good terms with myself again. I've never had the sack afore and be feeling a bit low about it. And I'd much like to get back on farmer afore I go to bed. 'T is only human for me to feel like that."

"You ban't doing this for revenge, however?"

"For naught but love of you, Nancy." "To be loved by a fine man—a go-bythe-ground creature like me!"

"And few better worthy of it." "I'll take you, Thomas; but if you change your mind after you 've slept on it, I sha'n't think no worse of you." "Then praise God for all His blessings, I 'm sure."

"What about his sherry wine? Shall go back?"

He considered this.

"Us don't want to shatter the poor

man at one blow. He'll want more 'n sherry wine when he hears about this feat. I'll trapse back to Ashburton and get another bottle. And you go home and change they soaking-wet clothes, else you might fall ill."

"That 's love!" she said, and looked at him wet-eyed.

"That 's only sense. I'll show you what love is as soon as I know what 't is myself. Then you break it to farmer as we be tokened, and when I come back with the drink, he 'll want it." "For God's sake, don't be long!" "I sha'n't. Kiss me, Nancy." He put his arms round her. "There's a brave lot of 'e to cuddle, whether or no," he said.

66

""T is all yours, God He knowsif you want it."

"I be coming to want it so fast as I can, woman.”

They parted, and two hours later Mr. Batson returned with a bottle of sherry and a bottle of Plymouth gin. He found George Cleave sitting by the fire alone.

"Hope you find yourself better, master," he said. "I've fetched along a drop of unsweetened for 'e. Hast heard the great news?"

"Yes, I have heard it, you wicked sarpent!"

"If a sarpent, then so wise as one. I was thinking of you coming up the hill. I be very hopeful you 'll change your mind about me now. But if you can't, then my wits ran on, and I said, 'A grand man like my future fatherin-law, SO amazing young for his years, did n't ought to be on the shelf.' And I thought of Mrs. Smerdon and some of they other fine women to Buckland village. And I much hoped as you might be well enough, come tomorrow, to go down the hill and have a talk with some of 'em and tell what is going to happen."

"You mind your own business and give me a whack of thicky gin," answered Mr. Cleave. "I be gone so weak as a mouse. "T is shocking thing for a man just up home seventy."

"You take Mrs. Smerdon, master, and you'll find yourself not a day more than fifty-nine."

"Sarpent!"

than it was for the men, because sooner or later they would be sent overseas to replace casualties, while he most probably would be kept there throughout the war, training one batch of casuals after another. If an officer was conscientious, he would try at first to make even the brief instruction that he could give the men passing through his hands in such a place count for something; but, as their personnel was constantly changing and the work was all to be done over again every week or two, he very soon lost heart, and concentrated his energies on getting out himself.

Pom had been there only two days when he received a summons at fivethirty in the afternoon to report immediately to the brigade adjutant. The orderly volunteered the information that "immediately" in this case really meant immediately, because the adju

tant was in a hurry to get off for the day and would be sore if the lieutenant kept him waiting. After a regretful glance toward the mess-hall, where dinner was about to be served, Pom hurried to brigade headquarters and reported. The adjutant handed him a list of one hundred and eighty-four names. It was almost illegible, because it was an nth carbon copy, all the original and first copies having been duly filed in various places. This made no difference to Pom, for a glance at the list showed him that the names were all of men from the lower East Side and entirely beyond pronunciation in any case.

"Lieutenant," said the major, "you will take command of these casuals and report them to the commanding officer of the engineers at Camp Merritt. The major's tone was very crisp and military; it made one feel that any order he gave was as good as accomplished.

"Yes, sir," faltered Pom, a little doubtfully. Inwardly he felt no small dismay, for he had never been in command of troops before.

"Well," said the major, with evident displeasure, "have you any questions?"

"Don't I get a travel order or some sort of authority for their transportation?" ventured Pom, apologetically.

"Yes, yes; of course!" The major made no effort to conceal his annoyance at being bothered with trifling details. "Don't worry, Lieutenant; it will be sent to you in plenty of time. Anything else?"

"What connection do I get from New York, sir?" "You don't have to worry about that, either. It is all arranged. Just keep your men in the cars when you get to the Pennsylvania Station. They will pull you out through the yards, across the river, and hitch you on the West Shore, which goes directly to Tenafly, where you get off. You don't have to change cars at all. Really, I

casuals and the trucks for their bag. gage ready at seven the next morning, he retired, not to repose, but to the most dire forebodings. Perhaps any one not trained to the regular service experiences a certain qualm the first time he is called upon to take command of troops. To Pom the prospect was unspeakably terrifying. unspeakably terrifying. He tried to

must ask you to excuse me now."

The adjutant was in a hurry to go to dinner. Pom, having missed his, wished to pursue the subject further.

"Just one more question, sir. What equipment-"

"They take full overseas equipment with them. The engineers may sail any day. That reminds me, you had better arrange to have two trucks take the equipment to the station."

A faint, but alluring, hope came to Lieutenant Pom.

"Do I go overseas with them?" he demanded of the major's departing back.

"No." The major flung the word unpleasantly over his shoulder. "You report back here without unnecessary delay."

After Pom had arranged to have the

reason himself out of his blue funk by figuring out in advance just what he should do. First, he would place himself in front of the men, and command, "Fall in," whereupon

they would form double ranks, facing him. Then he would call the roll to make sure that they were all present. After that there would be nothing to do except to give the command "Squads right, march," and proceed in column of squads to the station. It was

all ridiculously simple. The only thing was that he must act like an officer, and this was what he felt perfectly sure he could not do. It would be with him as it was with one of the newly made colonels, who was said to have been arrested by the secret service on the streets of New York, charged with "impersonating an officer."

When the fateful hour arrived the next morning, Pom marched out in front of the men with a great excess of dignity and cried, "Fall in," exactly according to schedule. He flattered himself that he did it as though he were used to that sort of thing. But nothing came of it. At least the men did not form in double ranks, facing him, as the Drill Regulations distinctly provided that they should. Most of them were too engrossed in private conversa

tions to pay any attention to him whatever. Some few did turn around and stare at him as much as to say it was a pity that he was mentally unbalanced. Pom was too frightened to be angry. He was utterly at a loss how to proceed. Such a situation was beyond belief. The Drill Regulations did not contemplate it. The only provision he could think of that seemed even remotely pertinent was that if enlisted men refused to obey an officer, they should be immediately placed under arrest.

One of the few men who had the appearance of being native Americans, a big Irishman with a humorous twinkle in his eye, and, evidently, friendly intentions, ambled over to his new lieutenant and said confidentially:

"Faith, Officer, they have no notion what you mean by that. By the same token, no more have I

tagious as it would have been among a flock of sheep.

The next stumbling-block on the schedule was roll-call. The Drill Regulations prescribed that the first sergeant should take charge of this, but, alas! there was no first sergeant. First on the list came the name Abrsowininsisky. Several shouted variations of

myself. Sure, we only just got here." A great light broke upon Lieutenant Pom. If he had not been so mentally upset, even his limited intelligence might have grasped the situation without the intervention of the kindly Irishman. Only a third of the men wore uniforms, another third wore civilian clothes, and the remainder a strange combination of the two. He established his Irish friend where he wanted the right of the line to be, placed several of the others so as to begin the double ranks, and by words and gestures unprescribed by the Drill Regulations, but suitable to the comprehension of all nationalities, conveyed to the rest the idea. that the formation was to be continued. The movement, once begun, was as con

this theme failed to produce any response. At last a hand was raised in the rear rank. "Why the deuce don't you answer to your name?" roared Pom.

"It ain't me, sir; it 's him," pointing to the man on the left. "Well, why the deuce don't you answer, then?" "My name he is no pronounce like you said," came the cold reply.

And so it went. Generally three or four mutilations of each long drawn-out and unfamiliar foreign name would enable its proud possessor to recognize it. Sometimes Pom was reduced to spelling. One Russian who could no more spell than he could speak English would have remained forever undiscovered had not his comrades pointed him out. The fact that the list of names was a very bad carbon copy considerably complicated matters. Pom fairly shouted with relief when on rare occasions he came to such names as Smith and O'Brien.

All this had taken time, and Pom realized that he must hurry to the station. Any such complicated movement as "Squads right" was obviously out of the question, so he experimented with "Right face," which succeeded after some confusion as to which face was