brought to a sudden halt by a surprised exclamation from a girl, who was
being shown through the camp by a strutting lieutenant. The sentinel was
Basil and Phyllis was the girl.

"Why, isn't that Basil?" she asked in an amazed tone--amazed because
Basil did not speak to her, but grinned silently.

"Why, it is Basil; why--why," and she turned helplessly from private to
officer and back again. "Can't you speak to me, Basil?"

Basil grinned again sheepishly.

"Yes," he said, answering her, but looking straight at his superior, "I
can if the Lieutenant there will let me." Phyllis was indignant.

"Let you!" she said, witheringly; and she turned on the hapless tyrant
at her side.

"Now, don't you go putting on airs, just because you happen to have been
in the Legion a little longer than _some_ people. Of course, I'm going
to speak to my friends. I don't care where they are or what they happen
to be at the time, or who happens to think himself over them."

And she walked up to the helpless sentinel with her hand outstretched,
while the equally helpless Lieutenant got very red indeed, and Basil
shifted his gun to a very unmilitary position and held out his hand.

"Let me see your gun, Basil," she added, and the boy obediently handed
it over to her, while the little Lieutenant turned redder still.