Marion's Faith.

by Charles King

  CHAPTER II.

  GARRISON TALK.

  It was a picturesque group that assembled every pleasant morning on theveranda of the colonel's quarters. There had been a time in the not verydistant past of the regiment when the ladies gathered almost anywhereelse in preference, but that was when Colonel Pelham had retained thecommand, and when his wife sought to rule the garrison after methods ofher own devising. However successful may be such feminine usurpation fora time, it is at best but a temporary power, for women are of all thingsrevolutionary. The instances where some ambitious matron has sought toassume the control of the little military bailiwick known as "thegarrison" are numerous indeed, but the fingers of one hand are too manyto keep tally of the cases of prolonged and peaceful reign. Mrs.Pelham's queendom had been limited to a very brief fortnight,--so 'twassaid in the regiment,--despite the fact that the more prominent membersof the social circle of the --th had been quite ready to do her everyhomage on her first arrival,--provided the prime ministry were not givento some rival sister. But Mrs. Pelham's administration had been fraughtwith errors and disasters enough to wreck a constitutional monarchy,and, as a result, affairs were in a highly socialistic, if notnihilistic condition for some months after the return of the regimentfrom its exile in Arizona. Only a few of the officers had taken theirfamilies thither with them, for the journey in those days was full ofvast discomfort and expense, and life there was an isolation; but thoseladies who had shared the heat and burden of the Arizona days with theirlords were not unnaturally given to regarding themselves as entitled tomore consideration as regimental authorities than those of theirsisterhood who had remained in comfort in the East. Then, too, there wasa little band of heroines who had made the march "cross country" withthe --th, and held themselves (and were held by the men) as having ahigher place on the regimental unwritten records than those who weresent home by way of the Pacific, San Francisco, and the one railway thatthen belted the continent. Of these heroines Mrs. Pelham was not, andwhen she rejoined at Fort Hays, got her house in order and proceeded,though with inward misgiving, to summon her subjects about her, shefound that even the faint rally on which she had counted was denied her.The ladies who knew her at Camp Sandy had thrown off the yoke, and thosewho were joining for the first time had been unmistakably cautioned bythe determined Amazons of the homeward march. Courtesy, civility, and acertain degree of cordiality when in their social gatherings, the ladieswere willing to extend to the colonel's wife, but the declaration ofindependence had been signed and sealed,--they would have no more of herdominion.

  To a woman of her character garrison life was no longer tolerable toMrs. Pelham; the colonel, too, was getting tired of it, was agingrapidly and no longer able to take his morning gallops. Then, too, hewas utterly lonely; his one daughter, the light of his old eyes, hadmarried the man of her choice during the previous year; his sons werescattered in their own avocations, and the complaints and peevishness ofhis wife were poor companions for his fireside. The officers welcomedhim to their club-room, and gladly strove to interest him in billiardsor whist, to the exclusion of the Gleason clique and concomitant poker,which was never played in the colonel's presence; but even this solacewas denied him by his wife. She was just as lonely at home, poor lady,and she had to have some one to listen to her long accumulation offeminine trials and grievances, otherwise the overcharged bosom wouldburst. We claim it an attribute of manhood that "to suffer and bestrong" is an every-day affair; but the best of men feel infinite reliefin having some trusted friend who will listen in patience to theoft-told story of their struggle. To suffer, be strong, and be silentis a task for the stoutest of our sex, but woman triumphs over natureitself in accomplishing the triple feat, and undergoes a torture thatoutrivals martyrdom. Suffer Mrs. Pelham could and did, if her volublelamentations could be credited; strong she deemed herself beyond allquestion, in not having succumbed to the privations and asperities ofWestern life, but silent? ah, no! Poor old Pelham's life had become aperennial curtain-lecture, so Lieutenant Blake expressed it, and whenJanuary came, and with it an opportunity to accept a pleasant detail inthe East, the colonel lost no time in taking his departure. He left the--th with a sorrowful heart, for officers and men were strongly attachedto the old soldier who had for years past shared every exile with them,but they could not bear his domineering wife, and many a fellow whohadn't told an appreciable lie for six months gulped unconscionably whenit came to saying good-by to Mrs. Pelham. How could an honest man say heregretted her going? Stout old Bucketts, the quartermaster, looked herstraight in the eye and wished her a pleasant journey and a long andhappy visit East, whereat several ladies gasped audibly, yet told itover and over afterwards with infinite delight. The majority of theofficers contented themselves with saying that the garrison would not bethe same place without the colonel and herself, which was gospel truthdespite its ambiguity, but Gleason came in from a hunt purposely to sayfarewell, and was most effusive in his regrets at her ladyship'sdeparture, and as for the ladies of the regiment. Ah, well! Why shouldthey be any different, any more frank in garrison than out of it? Therewas not one of their number who did not inwardly rejoice at Mrs.Pelham's going, but they clouded their gentle faces in decorousmourning; they grouped about her on the piazza when the hour for partingcame, looking infinitely pathetic and picturesque, and the soft voiceswere touching in their subdued sorrow; there were even eyes thatglistened with unshed tears, and both Mrs. Raymond and Mrs. Turnerbegged that she would write to them, and heaven only knows what all. Whothat saw it could doubt the forgiving nature of the gentler sex? Whodare asperse the sweet sincerity of feminine friendship?

  But Lady Pelham had gone, and gone for good they hoped; thelieutenant-colonel had arrived and assumed command, and Major and Mrs.Stannard made their first appearance at regimental headquarters. A newera had dawned on the --th; the staff sent in their resignations, andwere promptly and pleasantly notified by the new commander that he hopedthey would not deprive him of services that had been so valuable to hispredecessor; whereat they resumed duty with lighter hearts. It was allwell enough where Bucketts was concerned; he had been quartermaster foryears and no one expected anything else, but there were those in theregiment who hoped there might be a change in the adjutancy. The officewas held by one of the senior lieutenants, to be sure, and one whopossessed many qualifications which were conceded, but his appointmenthad been something of an accident.

  He, too, had come into the --th by transfer in '71 for the avowedpurpose of seeking service on the Western frontier with the cavalry. Asit was the artillery which he abandoned for that purpose, the --thadmitted that here was a fellow who might be worth having, but, to thescandal of the entire regiment, no sooner was the order issued whichdoomed them to a five years' exile in Arizona--then overrun with hostileApaches--than the newly transferred gentleman accepted a detail asaide-de-camp on the staff of a general officer, and the --th went acrossto the Pacific and presently were lost to recollection in the theninaccessible wilds of that marvellous Territory. Here they spent fourlong years of hard scouting, hard fighting, and no little suffering,while the aide in question was presumably enjoying himself in unlimitedball and opera in a gay Southern capital. Suddenly he turned up in theirmidst just in time to take part in the closing campaign which left theApaches for several years a disarmed and subjugated race; he happened toget command of a well-seasoned and thoroughly experienced "troop," andthrough no particular personal merit, but rather by the faculty he hadof seeking the advice of the veteran sergeants in the company, he hadwon two or three lively little fights with wandering bands of hostiles,and had finally been quite enviably wounded. It was all a piece of hisconfounded luck, said some of the --th not unnaturally. Many a gallantfellow had been killed and buried, many another wounded and notespecially mentioned, and all of them had done months of hard work whereBillings had put in only so many days, but here he came in at theeleventh hour, and they, who had borne the heat and burden of thecampaign and received every man his penny, cou
ldn't help a fewgood-natured slings at the fact that Billings's penny was just as bigand round as theirs. The department commander had been close at handevery time that fortunate youth came in from a scout, and even Ray, whowas incessantly seeking the roughest and most dangerous service, couldnot repress a wistful expression of his views when he heard of the finalscrimmage far up towards Chevelon's Fork. "Here we fellows have beenbucking against this game for nigh onto four years now, and if ever weraked in a pile it's all been ante'd up since, and now Billings comes infresh--never draws but he gets a full hand--and he scoops the deck. Hehas too much luck for a white man." The remark was one that, said by Rayhimself in his whimsical and downright manner, was destitute of anyhidden meaning, and Billings, who had not seen Ray for years, wouldnever have misunderstood it, but when he first heard it six monthsafterwards, and while Ray and himself had yet to meet, it was toldsemi-confidentially, told as Ray never said it, told in fact--byGleason; and Billings, who was of a nervous, sensitive disposition, asoutspoken in a way as Ray was in his, was hurt more than a little. Hehad known Ray a dozen years before when both were wearing the gray ascadets at the Point, but they were in different classes and by no meansintimate. Each, however, had cordially liked the other, and Billingswould have been slow to believe the statement as told him for a singleinstant except for two things,--one was that Gleason was a newacquaintance of whom up to that time he knew nothing reallydiscreditable; the other was that just before the regiment came Eastfrom Arizona the adjutancy became vacant, Lieutenant Truscott, who hadlong held the position, was detailed for duty at West Point and speedilypromoted to his captaincy; Billings was brought in wounded and sent offby sea to San Francisco as soon as he could travel, and so heard littleof the particulars of some strange mystery that was going on atregimental headquarters, and when, some months later, he rejoined theregiment in Kansas, it was with much mental perturbation that hereceived from "Old Catnip" the offer of the still vacant adjutancy.

  Of course, he had heard by that time just why Truscott had resigned andrefused to re-accept the position; he also knew that the colonel hadsaid that he could give it to no officer who had not served with them inthe rough days in Arizona; and, moreover, that he had once declared thatoffering the adjutancy to a second lieutenant was equivalent to sayingthat no first lieutenant was capable of performing the duties. But hedid not know that soon after Truscott's resignation the colonel hadtendered the adjutancy to Ray, and that impolitic youth had promptlydeclined. He knew, as did the whole regiment, that for Truscott Ray hadan enthusiastic admiration and regard, and for that matter, Billingshimself had reason to look upon the ex-adjutant as a friend worthhaving; but he did not suspect, as some at old Camp Sandy more thansuspected, that Ray had been offered his place. The colonel, in hissurprise and mortification, would speak of it to no one. Ray, in hisblunt honesty, conceived it to be his duty to regard the offer asconfidential, since he _had_ declined, and so, snubbed any one whostrove to extract information. Most of the senior lieutenants were ondetached service when they came in from Arizona. Everybody thoughtStryker would get the detail as soon as he returned from abroad, whitherhe had gone on leave after making, as mountain scout leader, the bestfour years' record in the regiment; but Stryker came just as Billingsdid, and to Billings, not Stryker, was the adjutancy tendered. What madethe regiment indignant was, that so far from being in the least put outabout it, Stryker placidly remarked that Billings was the very man forthe place. "He isn't entitled to it," said the --th; "in ten years'service he hasn't spent ten months with us." But Stryker did not see fitto tell them what he knew and the colonel knew,--that he had beentendered and had accepted the position of aide-de-camp to his oldArizona chief, and was daily awaiting orders to join; and Ray was offscouting with his troop when Billings reached headquarters, and had toface, as he supposed, an opposition. Stannard was the only man whoreally knew very much about him as a cavalry officer, and Stannard'sopinion was what brought it all about. They had served for some monthsat the same post, and both the major and his clear-sighted wife hadtaken a fancy to the young officer, whose first appearance in "citifiedgarb and a _pince-nez_" gave little promise of future usefulness in thefield. Pelham and Stannard knew that it _had_ to be Billings or a secondlieutenant, but Billings had at first no such intimation. Possibly hisstrong sense of self-esteem might have stood in the way of acceptancehad he supposed that he was merely a last resort. Stannard really hopedhe would be the appointee, but all he would say to the colonel whenasked for his opinion was, "I have had less to find fault with in himthan any officer who ever served in my troop; but then he was only withme six months or so. _I_ like him," which was tantamount to sayingothers probably wouldn't. But Stannard and Billings were firm friends,as anybody could see, and the colonel was quick to note that whenStannard had given Billings anything to do, he bothered himself nofurther about the matter, instead of going along and supervising as washis wont with most of the others. "If he's good enough for Stannard,he'll do for me," was the colonel's comment, and when Billings sought todecline the appointment offered, hinting, with well-meant but awkwarddelicacy, that perhaps it ought to go to some man of more establishedreputation and record in the regiment, the colonel cut him short with,"Here, Mr. Billings, I must have some one at once; old Bucketts has beendoing office-work as both quartermaster and adjutant until he is gettingused up, and young Dana is only good for parade and guard-mounting. I'lldetail you as acting adjutant, and if you like it, at the end of a weekwe'll make the appointment permanent. Consult your friends meantime, ifyou choose." And so it happened that when Stannard said, "Take it," andStryker told him quietly that there were reasons why he himself wouldhave had to decline, Billings shook his head a few minutes in thinkingover what he had heard of Mrs. Pelham, and wished he might see Ray andmake him understand that he thought the place should go to him, butStannard said, emphatically, that Ray was too harum-scarum foroffice-work, good as he was in the field. And then came a brief letterfrom Truscott, cordial and straight to the point as ever. It wound upby saying, "The colonel attributes your hesitation to the fact that youthink it ought to go to some man who has served longer with theregiment. We respect that, and appreciate it; but you are offered thiswith the best backing in the regiment,--Stannard's,--and with that youcan afford to laugh at anything the growlers may say."

  The next morning the order was issued in due form. That afternoon Mr.Ray, returning dusty and unshorn from a two weeks' scout up the Saline,was informed of the fact as he stood at the stables unstrapping from theback of his sorrel the carcass of a fat antelope, gave a low whistle,remarked, "Well, I'm damned!" and, as bad luck would have it, postponedrushing in to congratulate Billings until dinner, when, to his genuinedisappointment, the latter did not appear. He was dining at thecolonel's to meet some officers from Leavenworth, and when the newadjutant went to his rooms late that night he had not seen Ray at all,but there was that man Gleason smoking a cigar, sipping a toddy, andevidently primed for a chat. Already Billings had begun to look upon himwith disfavor, but could find no reason to avoid him entirely; he didnot welcome the unwanted guest; he could not chill him. Gleason had hischat, and, when Ray stepped forward with sunny smile and glisteningwhite teeth and cordial, outstretched hand the next morning, Billingslooked him in the eye, took his hand, but there was no warmth in thewelcome, and Ray felt rebuffed. "I heard Ned Billings had developed intosomething of a snob," said he afterwards, "but he's changed more, for afrank-hearted fellow that he was ten years ago, than any man I know."And so it happened that two men whose lives were closely interwoven fromthat time on, who had much in common, who, "had they but known," couldnever have drifted apart, began the next stage with an unknown, unseen,yet undeniable influence thrusting them asunder. And it was of these twomen that the picturesque group on the colonel's piazza happened to bespeaking this very May morning as the major and Mr. Ray, dismounting atthe south gate, strolled lazily up the lane. It was the habit of theformer when not on military duty to thrust his hands deep down into
histrousers pockets, and allow his ample and aldermanic paunch to reposeits weight upon his sabre-belt. As the belt was worn only at the hoursof drill or parade, it followed that there were lapses of time whereinthe paunch knew no such military trammel, and a side elevation of thebattalion commander warranted the simile put in circulation byLieutenant Blake: "The major looked as though he had swallowed a drum."Ray, on the contrary, was slimly, even elegantly built, a trifle tallerthan his bulky superior, and though indolent in his general movements,excitement or action transformed him in an instant. Then in every motionhe was quick as a cat. It was his wont to wear his forage-cap far downover his forehead and canted very much over the right eye, while,contrary to the fashion of that day, his dark hair fell below the visorin a sweeping and decided "bang" almost to his eyebrows, which werethick, dark brown, and low-arched. A semi-defiant backward toss of thehead was the result as much perhaps of the method of wearing his cap asof any pronounced mental characteristic. When Stannard was talkingeagerly of any subject his hands went deeper into his pockets, his headthrust forward, and his eyes fairly popped, as though slight additionalpressure would project them into space like many-tinted grape-shot. Ifhe were standing still, he tilted on his toes and dropped his head toone side as he expounded, until the ear wellnigh reposed upon theshoulder-strap. Ray, on the other hand, threw his head farther back and,unless he was angry, showed his white teeth to the molars.

  As they came along the walk from the main gate and passed one by one thesnug little brown cottages known as the officers' quarters, the ladiesgrouped on the colonel's piazza began their very natural comment,--therewere no other men in sight on that side of the garrison.

  "Last year you never saw Major Stannard without Mr. Billings; now younever see him with him, and he is just as chummy with Mr. Ray," remarkedour old friend Mrs. Turner, who was languidly swinging in the hammock,her eyes commanding a view of the sidewalk, and the sidewalk commandinga view of her very presentable feet encased in a new pair of Frenchheeled slippers, and stockings whose delicate mauve tint matched theribbons of her airy dress.

  "Well, Mr. Billings is adjutant and cooped up in the office all day,"was the reply of Mrs. Raymond, who could readily find reason for takingexception to the remarks or theories of her next-door neighbor andsocial rival.

  There were five ladies in the group, all under thirty, two of them undertwenty, only one unmarried, none of them avowedly interested in eitherof the two officers slowly approaching. No one of them, however,neglected a sweeping glance at her draperies or some slight readjustmentof pose or petticoat. Possibly the formality would have been equallyobserved had they all been over fifty.

  "I never could understand why Mr. Billings was made adjutant," remarkedthe one spinster, her eyes dreamily resting on the lithe form of Mr.Ray. "I don't mean, of course, that he doesn't do very well, but--therewere so many others who would have--at least who deserved it so muchmore."

  "Well, you must remember this," responded Mrs. Turner, "there wasn'tanybody else when it was given to him, and there was no real reason whythe colonel should remove him when he took command. Mr. Stryker wasgoing as aide-de-camp; Mr. Gleason--well, anybody knows he wouldn't do;Mr. Crane and Mr. Wilkins were neither of them fit for it; Mr. Raywouldn't have it, and Mr. Blake and Mr. Freeman hadn't joined. It wasreally Billings or nobody, except, of course, the second lieutenants.Dear me! how I wish one of them could have been appointed!" And Mrs.Turner sighed pathetically. The younger officers were her especialhenchmen, and each in turn paid his devotion a year or more at theshrine. If any one of them had been put in power, how much easier'twould have been to get the band every evening! and then the hopswouldn't have to close at midnight either! and Mrs. Turner was devotedto dancing.

  "But papa says Mr. Billings is right about not letting the band playafter midnight," broke in the young lady, whose years had been spent inmany a garrison, and whose papa--the post surgeon--had pronounced viewson matters of military and medical discipline. "Papa says the officershave no right to make the band play until late at night unless they paythem extra. They have to be up at reveille, and it's a shame to makethem work all day and at night too!"

  "The doctor is by no means alone in that idea," began a third speaker ina quiet voice, and both Mrs. Turner and Mrs. Raymond, who hadimpulsively burst into speech at the same instant, checked their nimbletongues, bridled, sweetly said, "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Stannard," andinclined attentive ears to a lady who at the moment had stepped from theopen door-way to the piazza. It was evident that she was a late arrival,in whose presence the others felt bound to observe the deferentialmanners which further intimacy would possibly extinguish. "Indeed," shewent on, "only this morning at breakfast Colonel Foster was saying thatthe bandsmen were getting their full share of work, and that Mr.Billings was quite right in the stand he made in the matter."

  "Ah, Mrs. Stannard, I don't wonder Mr. Billings is devoted to you!" saidMrs. Raymond. "You are always ready to defend him."

  "He was in our troop, you know, and I feel that he belongs to us to acertain extent," said Mrs. Stannard, smiling brightly, and noddingpleasant greetings to the two officers who were passing at the moment,still intent in their earnest talk. The major merely glanced at thepiazza and pulled off his cap, as though he wished its fair occupantswere beyond saluting distance. Ray bowed with laughing grace, and sungout cheerily,--

  "Don't expect the major home just yet, Mrs. Stannard; he's giving mefits, and I'm in for a lecture."

  The ladies were silent a moment, until the pair had passed on out ofearshoot. Then Mrs. Turner took up the cudgels again.

  "And yet, Mrs. Stannard, it wasn't so when Mr. Truscott was adjutant. Wecould have the band night after night if we wanted to, and surely youwon't say that Mr. Truscott wasn't the very paragon of an adjutant."

  "No, indeed," was the reply. "We all know how unequalled Mr. Truscottwas; but then, were not the conditions very different, Mrs. Turner? Forinstance, in Arizona the band was not mounted, the men had no stableduty, and it was so hot in the daytime that they really had no duty toperform but to play after dark when it was cool. Now, here they havetheir horses, they have two parades each day; they practice everymorning, and play on the parade every afternoon; that, with morning andevening stable duty, keeps them very busy, and don't you think Mr.Billings is right?"

  Now, all this was well understood by both Mrs. Turner and Mrs. Turner'sfriends, and as put by Mrs. Stannard, the case was clearly in favor ofthe bandsmen and the adjutant. Down in the depths of her consciousnessMrs. Turner was well aware of the fact. She had gone over the fight withher liege lord, the captain, more than once since the spring weather hadset in and the services of the band were in requisition several hourseach day. She knew perfectly well that there was no parallel in theconditions existing in Arizona in Mr. Truscott's time and those of theday in Kansas with Billings. Still, she wanted to contrast the men andtheir methods, and, as is not unusual, pronounced the abstract statementthat "it wasn't so with Mr. Truscott. _Then_ we could have the bandnight after night." She was only stating a fact, was her mentaljustification, but that she was doing an injustice she would probablyhave not admitted for an instant.

  Mrs. Stannard, however, had seen through the argument, and in hercourteous way had shattered its effect. This put Mrs. Turner on hermettle, and she half rose from the hammock.

  "Don't for a moment think I mean to criticise Mr. Billings, Mrs.Stannard; I really like him, _very_ much; only it's so poky not to havethe band now. The evenings are so lovely for dancing, and with so manyyoung officers here, it seems such a pity to waste so much time. Theyare out drilling or shooting, or something, all day long, and who knowsbut what they'll all be ordered off somewhere the next minute? Then wecan have the band all day and nobody to dance with. It's always theway."

  "Well, I like Mr. Billings, too," said Mrs. Raymond, eager to saysomething pleasant of Mrs. Stannard's friend; "and Captain Raymond sayshe is a very soldierly officer,--very military, I mean,--and knows hisduties
so well, only we can't help contrasting him with Mr. Truscott.Mr. Truscott was so dignified and calm and deliberate, while Mr.Billings is a regular bunch of springs. They _say_ he's very quick andirascible; real peppery, you know; but I suppose that is because theybother him a good deal."

  "Mr. Billings has a very nervous temperament I know," replied Mrs.Stannard, "but we never thought him ill-tempered at Fort Gaines, andcertainly Captain Truscott thinks all the world of him. They correspondconstantly, and only last evening he showed me a letter just receivedfrom the captain."

  "Did he?" said Mrs. Turner, with sudden interest. "What did he say aboutGrace?"

  "About Mrs. Truscott?" said Mrs. Stannard, smilingly. "He said a gooddeal about her. She was so bright and well and so pleased with WestPoint, and they had such lovely quarters, looking right out on the plainwhere they could see everything that was going on, and Miss Sanford wasvisiting them----"

  "What Miss Sanford?" asked Mrs. Turner, with that feminine impetuositywhich is born of an incredulity as to any one's being able to conveyinformation in one's own time and way.

  "Miss Marion Sanford. She was a classmate of Mrs. Truscott's in theirschool-days, and belongs to a wealthy New Jersey family, Mr. Billingssays."

  "Oh, _I_ know!" said Mrs. Raymond. "She's that handsome girl in thealbum that Grace had at Sandy, don't you know? with the Worth dress andthe something or other the matter with her forehead,--a burn or abirth-mark,--wears her hair so low over it. Don't you know? Grace toldus she had such a sad history,--her mother died when she was sixteen andher father married again, and she has her mother's fortune and had goneabroad. She was travelling with the Zabriskies and was presented atcourt last year, and the Prince of Wales said something or other abouther. Don't you know? we read it in the New York something as we werecoming out on the Kansas Pacific last fall. My! Just think of her atWest Point! What a catch!" And Mrs. Raymond paused, breathless withadmiration, not with effort. Talking fatigued her far less than silence.

  "Yes, Mrs. Raymond, that is the very one, I believe," continued Mrs.Stannard in her pleasant tones, as soon as the lady came to a full stop."Mr. Billings says that he has heard that her father married a veryunpleasant woman the last time, and that 'twas said he would be----"

  "What! Mr. Billings said that? Oh, Mrs. Stannard, how rejoiced I am tohear it! Captain Turner tried to make me believe that he was anotherTruscott in his horror of gossip. Now, won't I crow over him when hecomes in to dinner?"

  "Not crow, dear,--cackle," suggested Mrs. Raymond, mildly; "it's theother sex that does the crowing."

  "Very possibly I have betrayed a trust," laughed Mrs. Stannard, comingto the rescue in the interests of harmony. "It was my mistake inreferring to it. _Do_ tell me about Mrs. Truscott; you know I never mether."

  "What is there to tell except that she _is_ Mrs. Truscott," halflaughed, half pouted Mrs. Turner, who never quite forgave the fact thather queendom, real or imaginary, had been invaded by that very lady ayear before, to the temporary loss of her throne. As Grace Pelham, Mrs.Truscott had won all hearts at Sandy. "She is undeniably pretty andlady-like; but what else can any one say of her? Stylish? no. Now, Mrs.Raymond, you need not try and say _you_ think her stylish, because onlylast year at Prescott you wouldn't admit it. And as to her winning Mr.Truscott as she did, it is simply incomprehensible. What men see in somewomen is beyond _me_. She is neither deep, nor intellectual, norparticularly well read that _I_ ever saw or heard of, and how she's amatch for him, as people say, I can't see. He's just head over heels inlove with her,--at least he was,--and she was simply wrapped up inhim,--at least she is. You ought to have seen the letter she wrote Mrs.Page a few months ago; all about her happiness and Jack,--just as ifthere never had been another man in the world worth looking at. She'dhave been just as rapturous over Mr. Glenham if she'd married him as shepromised to do, I haven't a doubt, or Ray. _He_ was ready to bow downand worship her at one time; and she encouraged him not a little beforewe left Sandy, too."

  "Don't you believe _that_," interposed Mrs. Raymond. "They were warmfriends, I know, but Ray was never her lover."

  "You always will contradict me, Nellie," protested Mrs. Turner; "but ifyou could not see what every one else saw you were simply blind. Iwonder she doesn't sometimes regret not marrying Glenham, though. Theysay he has gone abroad and has more money than he can ever spend."

  "More than he ever could if he's as close as he was in Arizona,"interposed Mrs. Raymond.

  "But did you not know that Captain Truscott's ventures were coming outwonderfully well?" asked Mrs. Stannard, eager to give a pleasanter toneto the talk. "I heard not only that was true, but that an uncle hadleft him a good deal of money. One thing is certain, they have fitted uptheir quarters beautifully at the Point, and are living there in a gooddeal of style."

  "Here come the officers in from drill," exclaimed Mrs. Turner, as agroup of bronzed and soldierly-looking men came suddenly around thecorner of the adjutant's office and strolled towards them. "Ask CaptainMerrill, he will know. _Captain Merrill_," she called, raising hervoice. "Do come here a moment." And obediently he came, doffing his capand accepting the seat tendered him beside her by Mrs. Raymond.

  "You were at the Point last month. Is it true that Captain Truscott hasa good deal of money now?"

  "Can't prove it by me, madame," said Merrill, sententiously. "Ask Blake.He's our Jenkins. How is it, Blake?"

  "Don't call me pet names, dearie. 'When _my_ tongue blabs then let mineeyes not see,'" declaimed Mr. Blake, sauntering up to the group andswinging a long, lean leg over the railing. "What do you want to know?"

  "Is Mr.--Captain Truscott rich?"

  "If my individual experiences are indicative, I should say he wasboundless in wealth and prodigality."

  "Why?"

  "He lent me a hundred dollars when I was East on leave, and I know henever expects to see it again."

  "I declare, Mr. Blake, you are as bad as Mr. Ray!"

  "They are scoundrels and substractors that say so of me. Mrs. Turner,you--you make me blush. Ray, come hither and bear me consolation. Friendof my youth, Merrill calls me Jenkins; Mrs. Turner calls me bad as you;and you--called me with a pair of kings when mine was a bobtail. Theworld is hollow, Ray."

  "_Mr._ Blake! Will you stop your everlasting nonsense and tell us aboutTruscott? When were you there?"

  "Mrs. Turner, you aggrieve me, but I was there in April."

  "And _are_ they so delightfully situated?"

  "Yea, verily,--blissfully."

  "Was Miss Sanford there?"

  "She came, alas! the very eve I hied me hence. I saw her but a moment;'twas----"

  "You saw her? Tell us what she's like. Is she pretty? is shesweet-mannered as they say?"

  "Sweet? She's sweet, aye, _dix-huit_; at least she was a year agone.Pretty? Ah me!" And Blake sighed profoundly, and straddled the rail apicture of dejection. His auditors groaned in chorus, the customaryrecognition of one of Blake's puns, but gathered about him in manifestinterest. With all his rattling nonsense he was a regimental pet.

  "But where is she from? What connection of the New Jersey Sanford?"

  "The Autocrat of the Preakness Stable, mean you? Marry, I know not. Sheis a Sanford and has a Sanford's wealth, but 'twas not for me. Sheadores a horse and worships a horseman. This I gathered from our toobrief converse. I strove to win her ear with poesie, but she bade mecease. Her soul is not attuned to melody,--she'd none of mine. Shepreferred my Lady Truscott and buttered muffins."

  "What did Truscott say about Crook's fight with Crazy Horse?" askedRay, who looked blank enough at Blake's jargon, and wanted facts.

  "I don't think Jack liked the looks of things," said Blake, relapsinginto sudden gravity. "He told me that he thought it more than likelywe'd all be in the field again in less than a month."

  "We?" said Merrill. "It isn't a matter that affects Truscott one way oranother. He has his four years' detail at the Point. What differencedoes it make to him whether we're ordered up to reinforce C
rook?"

  "Just this difference, my bully rook: that Truscott would catch usbefore we got to Laramie--unless we went by rail."

  "Why, Blake, you're addled!" replied the captain, in thatuncomplimentary directness which sometimes manifests itself among oldcomrades of the frontier, even in the presence of the gentler sex. "Why,Mr. Blake, you don't suppose he is going to give up his young wife, hislovely home, his pleasant duties, to join for a mere Indian campaign, doyou?" asked more than one present, and a general murmur of dissent wentround. "What do _you_ say, major?" said one voice, in direct appeal tothe senior officer of the group.

  "It depends on what you consider a 'mere Indian campaign,'" was the coolresponse.

  "But as to Truscott's going, what do you think, Ray?"

  "I don't think anything about it. I _know_."