“Erminie, I always knew you had a very light, elastic step, but indeed, to-day you seem to walk with ‘winged feet,’ as Homer has it. And now I look at you, your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are dancing. It is all of a piece, and all equally the effect of those delightful letters, I do suppose,” said Elfie. “I do suppose it is. And yet I do not know. But certainly, though I have always been in good health, I never felt so well in my life as I do now. I feel as if some strong, divine elixir in my brains gave me a new sense of life. But I am talking too much of myself and my own sensations. What nonsense. Let us speak of something else. Young Ethel. I have a great respect for that gallant young officer, Elfie. And if your father comes to make us any sort of a long visit, I shall invite Ethel to stop at the parsonage, as he did during his last sojourn in Washington,” said Miss Rosenthal. “That will be very agreeable only it will curtail us of our liberties. No more sailing all over the house, at all hours of the day and night, in our white wrappers and slippers,” replied Elfie. And so chatting, the young ladies went on their way, that bright summer morning, towards the hospital. From ward to ward Erminie went, carrying everywhere the same bright smile that shone with such strange, supernal beauty that morning. And the soldiers whom she cheered and comforted said to each other, when she had passed by, how she looked—like an angel from Heaven, with the celestial light still around her. They walked the rounds of three other hospitals, and then Erminie spoke of turning their steps homeward. But Elfie remonstrated. “I’ll tell you what, Miss Rosenthal, _you_ may be exhilarated by some divine elixir, or you may be borne on by invisible wings, but as for me, I have nothing but my mortal flesh and blood and bones to uphold me, and I am just so tired that my limbs are ready to bend under me, and my back aches as if I were a hundred years old,” she said. “Under these circumstances we must take a carriage, I suppose,” smiled Erminie. And the carriage was called, and they drove home. Erminie did not go out again to the hospitals that afternoon. She was expecting a small party of friends to take tea and spend the evening, and it was necessary to make some preparations for them. So after an early luncheon Erminie and Elfie began to gather flowers to decorate the drawing-room, and the dining-room and library. “My pap is very fond of company. I hope he will arrive this evening. It would be such a pleasant surprise for him to meet a party of his friends here,” said Elfie, as she arranged a large bush of odorous magnolia-grandiflora to sit on the drawing-room hearth. “I think it quite likely that your hopes will be realized, Elfie,” answered Erminie, who was delicately placing a bouquet of lilies and roses in a vase for the centre table.