It was a letter from Barry which again brought her head up, and made

her life march once more to a martial tune.

"I have found the work for which I am fitted," he wrote; "you don't

know how good it seems. For so many years I went to my desk like a boy

driven to school. But now--why, I work after hours for the sheer love

of it--and because it seems to bring me nearer to Leila."

This from Barry, the dawdler! And she who had preached was whimpering

about heat and cold, about long hours and hard work--as if these things

matter!

Why, life was a Great Adventure, and she had forgotten!

And now she began to look about her--to find, if she could, some ray to

illumine her workaday world.

She found it in the friendliness and companionship of her office

comrades--good comrades they were--fighting the battle of drudgery

shoulder to shoulder, sharing the fortunes of the road, needing, some

of them, the uplift of her courage, giving some of them more than they

asked.

As Mary grew into their lives, she grew away somewhat from her old

crowd. And if, at times, her gallant fight seemed futile--if at times

she could not still the cry of her heart, it was because she was a

woman, made to be loved, fitted for finer things and truer things than

writing cabalistic signs on a tablet and transcribing them, later, on

the typewriter.

Leila had refused to be dropped from Mary's life. She came, whenever

she could, to walk a part of the way home with her friend, and the two

girls would board a car and ride to the edge of the town, preferring to

tramp along the edges of the Soldiers' Home or through the Park to the

more formal promenade through the city streets.

It was during these little adventures that Mary became conscious of

certain reserves in the younger girl. She was closely confidential,

yet the open frankness of the old days was gone.

Once Mary spoke of it. "You've grown up, all in a minute, Leila," she

said. "You're such a quiet little mouse."

Leila sighed. "There's so much to think about."

Watching her, Mary decided. "It is harder for her than for Barry. He

has his work. But she just waits and longs for him."

In waiting and longing, Little-Lovely Leila grew more mouse-like than

ever. And at last Mary spoke to the General. "She needs a change."

He nodded. "I know it. I am thinking of taking her over in the

spring."




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