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"Yes, so called. He wa'n't a lieutenant then, he was a clerk, like you or me."

There was a hush of attention among them as the lieutenant and I saluted. His left hand was gone at the wrist and the sleeve pinned back on itself. He asked my name; I told him. In the car there was a stir of deepening interest. I inquired if he was the post-quartermaster here. He was.

The aunt and her nieces were standing in the carry-all, she majestic, they laughing and weeping in the one act. I waved them into their seats.

"No, sir."

I thought I did until I glanced at the superscription: Miss Coralie Rothvelt.

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