“Oh, no, Edmonia,” broke in Dorothy, “we must drive back to the camp at once. Cousin Arthur needs his ride. You don’t know. I tell you he’s breaking down. Yes you are, Cousin Arthur, so you needn’t shake your head. That isn’t quite truthful in you. You work night and day, and lately you’ve had a dreadfully worn and tired look in your eyes. I’ve noticed it and all last night, when you had sent me away to sleep, I lay awake thinking about it.” Edmonia smiled at this. Perhaps she recognized it as a symptom--in Dorothy. She only said in reply: “Don’t worry about Arthur. I am worried only about you, and I’m going to take you to Branton. Am I not, Arthur?” “I sincerely hope so,” he replied. “And there is not the slightest reason why you shouldn’t keep her for the night if you will. She is really not needed at the hospital till tomorrow. I’m honest and truthful when I say that, Dorothy. Dick and I can take care of everything till tomorrow, and I’ll see to it that Dick’s inspirations are restricted to poetry. So take her, Edmonia, and keep her till tomorrow. And don’t let her talk too much.” “Oh, I’m going to take her. She is impolite enough not to want to go but she is much too young to have a will of her own--yet. As for Dick, he’s already in the throes. He is constructing a new ‘song ballad’ on the sorrowful fate of the turkey. It begins: ‘Tukkey in de bacca lot, A pickin’ off de hoppa’s,’ but it goes no further as yet because Dick can’t find any rhyme for ‘hopper’ except ‘copper’ and ‘proper’ and ‘stopper,’ which I suggested, and they don’t serve his turn. He came to me to ask if ‘gobblers’ would not do, but I discouraged that extreme of poetic license.” “Edmonia,” said Dorothy as soon as the carriage had renewed its journey, “did you really think it impolite in me not to want to go with you?” “No, you silly girl.” “I’m glad of that. You see I think there is nothing so unkind as impoliteness. But really I think it is wrong for me to go. Why didn’t you take Cousin Arthur instead? You don’t know how badly he needs rest.” Edmonia made no direct reply to this. Instead, she said presently: “Arthur is one of the best men I know. Don’t you think so, Dorothy?” “Oh, he’s altogether the best. I can’t think of anybody to compare him with--not even Washington. He’s a hero you know. I often read over again all the newspapers that told about what he did in Norfolk, and of course he’s just like that now. He never thinks of himself, but always of others. There never was any man like him in all the world. That’s why I can’t bear to think of going to Branton and leaving him alone when if I were at my post, he might get some of the sleep that he needs so much. Edmonia, I’m not going to Branton! Positively I can’t and I won’t. So if you don’t tell the driver to turn back, I’ll open the carriage door and jump out and walk back.”