She waved a fan gently to and fro to keep away stray flies, thinking over the months she had been in Georgia and all that had happened in that time. After all, in spite of the fact that she had lived near to the battle-fields, she had not seen very much to teach her the horrors of war. The few crippled soldiers that wandered along the road had not come fresh from the conflict as had Hal. The talk of thousands fallen in this or that battle had not come close to her before this. Now, all at once, she realized that those thousands had each a home, just as Hal May had, and that in each was a sorrowing mother or sister whose heart ached at the pain or death she could do naught to prevent. “Except Val Tracy,” she said to herself. “He says he has no kin to bother about him, and—and poor Lee Hendon too. He hasn’t anybody, since his mother died.” And, as if she had spoken aloud, a voice beside her seemed to answer. “Where did he go? Lee Hendon, I mean.” Dorothea came up straight in her chair, hardly able to believe her ears, for it was Hal who spoke. He was looking at her with inquiring eyes and she returned his gaze with an expression of bewildered amazement. “What happened to Lee?” Hal demanded after a moment. Dorothea was confused. She remembered that sick people needed to be humored but she had also heard that they should not be allowed to talk. “Hadn’t I better call April?” she asked gently, half rising from her chair. “By no means,” Hal answered positively. “I don’t want her, above all people, to know of this. Tell me, what happened to Lee? Was he captured, after all?” “You forget,” Dorothea answered patiently, “that we haven’t heard of him since his mother died, long ago.” Hal considered this for a moment, turning his bandaged head restlessly from side to side. “But you know Lee brought me home,” he remarked a moment later. “I’d have died if it hadn’t been for him.” This convinced Dorothea that Hal by no means knew what he was talking about. “It’s all right, Hal,” she said soothingly. “Don’t bother about it.” She meant to calm him, feeling that this babbling about Lee Hendon would be most distressing to April and not wishing to summon her if she could avoid it. “But he brought me home,” Hal persisted. “I don’t want any of the family to hear about it. April least of all. She’s down on Lee, you know, and this would make it all the worse. Can’t you tell me what has happened to him?” “Hal, dear,” Dorothea said firmly, thinking that he must be quieted, “you mustn’t talk, must you? Please go to sleep and don’t bother.” This seemed to have the reverse of a soothing effect on the patient. “I believe he’s captured,” Hal cried, excitedly, “and you’re all hiding it from me. And it will go hard with him, too. I must see about it. How long have I been here?” He started to raise himself from the bed. “Send for Big Jim,” he ordered. Dorothea was now half desperate.