minute or two."
"Mr. Montgomery, did you say?" asked the woman with dignity.
"Yes, I suppose you might call it Mr. But I doubt if she would identify me that way," said the soldier with a grin. "It wasn't the way I was known, but it's all right with me if she remembers."
"Just sit down," said the woman, with a disapproving air. "I'll call her. She'll likely be down in a short time."
The young man entered the room indicated and sat down in the first chair that presented itself, dropping his face in his hands for an instant and drawing a quick breath almost like a petition. Then he straightened up, but he did not look about him. This was her home, her natural environment, that for long years he had often wished he might see, but he did not wish his mind to be distracted now. He must be alert and at attention when she came. This was probably a crazy thing he was doing, and yet he felt somehow he had to do it.
He heard a light step, and glancing up he saw her coming down the wide staircase that he could just glimpse through the open doorway. She seemed so like the little girl she had been long ago. The same light movement, as if her feet had wings, the same curly brown hair with golden lights in it, the same ease and poise and grace of movement.
She was wearing a slim brown dress that matched the lovely brown of her eyes, and there was a bright knot of ribbons in her brown hair, green and scarlet, that looked like berries and a leaf. It was like a jewel in a picture. His heart quickened as she came, and he felt abashed again at the errand that had brought him here.
She entered the room eagerly, and an interested smile dawned on her sweet face.
The soldier rose and stood awaiting her. A salute—that was her due, yet he didn't want to flaunt his position as a soldier. But she was putting out her hand, both hands, as if she had a warm welcome for him. It occurred to him that perhaps she did not remember him—had possibly taken him for someone else. Or was it her habit to welcome all soldiers in this war-hearted gracious way? But no, she just wasn't that free kind of a girl. She was welcoming him as someone she knew intimately and was glad to see.
The look in her eyes, the warm touch of her hand, seemed so genuine that his own plans for distant courtesy seemed somehow out of place. And so for a moment he could only stand there with her hands in his and look down at her as she spoke.
"I'm so glad to see you!" she said. "It's a long time since we met."
"You remember me?" he asked in wonder. "You know who I am?"
"Why, of course!" said the girl, with a happy little lilt in the turn of her voice. "You're the boy who sat in the very last seat in the first row in our senior high school year. You're the one who always knew all the answers all the way through our school years. Because you really studied, and you cared to know."
He looked at her in astonishment.
"Did I seem like that to you?"
"Oh yes," she said, drawing a happy little breath. "You seemed to be the one student in our room who really cared. I wondered whatever became of you. Did you go away to college, or go to work, or what?"
"Oh, I went to college," he said modestly, not even showing by so much as a glint in his eyes what a march of hard work and triumph that college course had been. This young man was one who took the next thing in his stride and did his best in it as he went.
"And now you're in the army," she said, her glance taking in the insignia on his uniform. "You're—?" She paused and gave him a troubled look. "You're going overseas pretty soon?"
"Yes," he said, coming back to his purpose. "Yes, if it hadn't been for that, I would scarcely have ventured to come to see you."
"And why not, I'd like to know?" asked the girl, lifting her lovely eyes and bringing into her face all the old interest she had had in this fellow-student who had been so much of a stranger to her, bringing a light of genuine understanding and admiration.
"Why not?" He laughed. "Why, I had no acquaintance with you. You belonged in a different class."
"Oh no," said the girl, with a twinkle in her eyes, nestling her hands in the big strong ones that still held hers. "Have you forgotten? You were in my class all through school. And what's more, you were the very head of the class. It was my main ambition to try and keep up with you in my studies. I knew I ever could get ahead, but I wanted to be at least second in the class! So don't say again that you weren't in my class."
He laughed, with an appreciation of the way she had turned the meaning of his words, and the fine color rolled up into his face gorgeously.
"You know I didn't mean that," he protested. "I knew you were the lovely lady of the class, and that you gave me a wholesome race as far as studies were concerned. But even so, that didn't put me into your class. You, with your lovely home, and your noble father and mother, and your aristocratic birth, and your millions, and your fashionable friends."
"Oh," said the girl, with almost contempt in her voice, "and what are they to separate people? Why should just things like that have made us almost strangers, when we could have been such good friends?"
He looked at her with a deep reverence.
"If I had known you felt that way, perhaps it wouldn't have taken me so long to decide whether I ought to come to you to-day."
"Oh, I am so glad you came!" she said impulsively. "But come, let's sit down!" Blythe, suddenly aware that her hands were still being held closely, flashed a rosy light into her cheeks as she drew the young man over toward the couch and made him sit down beside her.
"Now," she said, "tell me all about it. You came for some special reason, something you had to tell me, Susan said when she announced you."
"Yes," said the soldier, suddenly reverting to his first shyness and to the realization of his appalling impertinence in what he had to say. "Yes, I have something special to tell you. I know I'm presuming in speaking of it, and perhaps you will think me crazy for daring to tell you. I'm sure I never would have dared to come if it hadn't been that I'm in the army and that I have volunteered to undertake a very special and dangerous commission about which I am not allowed to speak. It is enough to say that it means almost certain death for me. And that's all right with me. I went into it with this knowledge, and it's little enough to do for my country. But when I came to look the fact in the face and get ready for my departure, which is probably to be to-night, I found there was something I wanted to do before I go. There was just one person to whom I wanted to say good-bye. And that was you. I have nobody else. My mother has been gone two years. She was all I had. My other relatives, the few that are left, live far away and do not care anyway. But there was just one person whom I wanted to see before I left, and that was you. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind?" said Blythe, lifting dewy eyes to his. "I think that is wonderful! Why should I mind?"
"But we are practically strangers, you know," he said with hesitation. "And in the ordinary run of life, if there were no war and things were going normally, we would probably never have been anything but strangers. I am not likely ever to become one whom your family would welcome as one of your friends——"
"Oh, but you don't understand my family," said the girl, putting out an impulsive hand to touch his arm. "My family is not like that. They are not a lot of snobs!" She was speaking with intense fervor, and her eyes implored him to believe.
"Oh no," he said, "I would not call anything that belonged to you by such a
