He bowed as he did so to a little party which at that moment entered the room through the door, obstructing his passage. There were two very spick and span young officers with Miss Caroline Mitford between them, while just behind loomed the ponderous figure of old Martha. “You wait in the hall right here, Martha; I won’t be long,” said Caroline, pausing a moment to let the others precede her. The two young men stopped on either side of the door and waited for her. “Miss Mitford,” said the elder, “this is the Department Telegraph Office.” “Thank you,” said Caroline, entering the room with only the briefest of acknowledgments of the profound bows of her escorts. She was evidently very much agitated and troubled over what she was about to attempt. The two young men followed her as she stepped down the long room. “I am afraid you have gone back on the Army, Miss Mitford,” said one of them pleasantly. “Gone back on the Army, why?” asked Caroline mystified. “Seems like we should have a salute as you went by.” “Oh, yes,” said the girl. She raised her hand and saluted in a perfunctory and absent-minded manner, then turned away from them. She nodded to the messengers, some of whom she knew. One of them, who knew her best, stepped forward. “Good-evening, Miss Mitford, could we do anything in the office for you to-night?” he asked. “Oh, yes,—you can. I want to send a—a telegram.” The other of the young officers who had escorted her, who had remained silent, now entered the conversation. “Have you been receiving some bad news, Miss Mitford?” he asked sympathetically. “Oh, no.” “Maybe some friend of yours has gone to the front, and——” interposed the first officer. “Well, supposing he had,” said Caroline, “would you call that bad news?” “I don’t know as you would exactly like to——” “Let me tell you,” said Caroline, “as you don’t seem to know, that all my friends have gone to the front.” There was an emphasis on the pronoun which should have warned the young soldier what was about to occur, but he rushed blindly to his doom. “I hope not all, Miss Mitford,” he replied. “Yes, all,” rejoined Caroline, making the “all” very emphatic, “for if they did not they wouldn’t be my friends.” “But some of us are obliged to stay here to take care of you, you know,” contributed the other young man. “Well, there are altogether too many of you trying to take care of me,” said Caroline saucily, with some return of her usual lightness, “and you are all discharged.” “Do you mean that, Miss Mitford?” “I certainly do.” “Well, I suppose if we are really discharged, we will have to go,” returned the other. “Yes,” said his companion regretfully, “but we are mighty sorry to see you in such low spirits.” “Would you like to put me in real good spirits, you two?” asked Caroline, resolved to read these young dandies who were staying at home a lesson. “Wouldn’t we!” they both cried together. “There’s nothing we would like better.”