Now about (_call for supper_) about that telegram (_call for regimental conference. I am now at the company tent waiting for the captain's conference._) about that telegram of mine. _Where is Vera Wadsworth?_ For when we were on the parade ground at the post this afternoon, learning to pitch our shelter tents (which is another complicated affair, the explanation of which I will reserve) we found ourselves deserted for a while by our mentor the lieutenant, and were at the mercy of green sergeants, who knew something, to be sure, but in whom we had no confidence. Someone discovered him,--Pickle. "Gee," said that exponent of classic English, "spot the lieutenant with a skirt." And there he was at a distance, in talk with a tall girl, handsome, unless I miss my guess, and Vera herself, if I have any knowledge of her figure, and of a certain hat and parasol she lately affected. Quite at home there too, without a chaperon, on the walk in front of the officers' houses, and without a waiting automobile that brought her or would carry her away. What could bring her here? Were her military relatives at this post? At any rate, I thought they were now at the border. I hope it wasn't she; but the lieutenant, as he returned to us, smiled as men usually do as they think of Vera. Look up her whereabouts and let me know. I see the captain coming to conference. Good night, DICK. TELEGRAM FROM MRS. RICHARD GODWIN, SENIOR, TO HER SON AT PLATTSBURG, DATED THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1916 she is taking charge of her cousins children at the plattsburg post am writing mother. PRIVATE GODWIN'S DAILY LETTER Thursday, Sept. 14, 1916. DEAR MOTHER:-- Your telegram, reaching me, made me uncomfortable at first. However, I don't suppose I shall meet Vera, so I shall put the matter out of my mind. Last night there was a rain, which wakened me as it came down pretty heavily. Knudsen, with a groan, got out of bed and put on his poncho. "What is up?" I asked, whispering; and he, likewise trying not to wake the others, answered, "Rain is coming in. Must fix the tent-cap." So I got up and helped him. I did not tell you, I think, that the tent is open at the top like a wigwam, providing perfect ventilation; but when the rain comes in it wets the clothes hung around the poles, and also the rifles. But a canvas cap, which in fair weather is laid back, may be dragged over the opening by ropes hauled from below, and Knudsen and I managed to close it. Maybe you think it was fun, falling over the tent-ropes in the windy dark.