much for it. Don't believe a word of it. Shall believe to my dying day
that it burst in a frantic but hopeless attempt to tell Lieut. True Born
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

April 6.--The lieutenant watching for some sign of misfortune to me.
Says that I can't break a mirror twice without ill-luck following it.
Me!

April 9.--Lieut. True Born comes up to me with a face full of conflicting
emotions. "Your ill-luck has come at last," he says with gloomy
satisfaction. "We go under canvas on the 23rd. You are losing me!"