suits.

Suddenly a voice sounded at her elbow: "Some kid, eh? Looking good
enough to eat!"

She turned around and met the admiring gaze of Sergeant Edward Loftus
Brown, recruiting sergeant of the 19-th, with whom she had been to the
theater a few nights before. She welcomed him effusively.

"Come on and have something to eat," he said. "I got three recruits
to-day--so I am going to proclaim a half-holiday."

They sat at a table in an alcove and gayly discussed the people who
passed by. The President of the Red Cross came in, and at a table
across the room hastily drank a cup of tea and went out again.

"She came to see me to-day," said Mrs. Tweed, "and gave me to
understand that they were not any too well pleased with me--I am too
gay for a soldier's wife! And they do not approve of you."

Sergeant Brown smiled indulgently and looked at her admiringly through
his oyster-lidded eyes. His smile was as complacent as that of the
ward boss who knows that the ballot-box is stuffed. It was the smile
of one who can afford to be generous to an enemy.

"Women are always hard on each other," he said soothingly; "these
women do not understand you, Trixie, that's all. No person understands
you but me." His voice was of the magnolia oil quality.

"Oh, rats!" she broke out. "Cut that understanding business! She