I

THE YOUNGSTER'S STORY

IT HAPPENED AT MIDNIGHT

THE TALE OF A BRIDE'S NEW HOME


The daytimes were not ever very bad. Short-handed in the pretty
garden, every one did a little work. The Lawyer was passionately fond
of flowers, and the Youngster did most of the errands. The Sculptor
had found some clay, and loved to surprise us at night with a new
centre piece for the table, and the Divorcée spent most of her time
tending Angéle's baby, while the Doctor and the Nurse were eternally
fussing over new kinds of bandages and if ever we got together, it was
usually for a little reading aloud at tea-time, or a little music. The
spirit of discussion seemed to keep as far away before the lights were
up as did the spirit of war, and nothing could be farther than that
_appeared_.

The next day we were unusually quiet.

Most of us kept in our rooms in the afternoon. There were those
stories to think over, and that we all took it so seriously proved how
very much we had been needing some real thing to do. We got through