But here the girl’s courage failed her. “Tell me what you said,” persisted Wilfred. “It was something very nice,” faltered poor Caroline. “It was, eh?” “Yes.” “Was it as nice as this?” asked Wilfred, suddenly lifting his head and kissing her. “I don’t know about that,” stammered Caroline, blushing a beautiful crimson, “but it was very nice. I wouldn’t have tried to telegraph it if it was something bad, would I?” “Well, if it was so good,” said Wilfred, “why on earth didn’t you send it?” “Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Caroline; “how could I when they wouldn’t let me?” “Wouldn’t let you?” “I should think not. They had a dreadful time at the telegraph office.” “At the telegraph office; were you there?” Wilfred made a violent effort to recollect. “I have it,” he said in stronger tones; “they told me at the hospital. I must get up.” “No, no; you mustn’t,” said Caroline, interposing. “Don’t,” said Wilfred; “I have to attend to it.” He spoke with a stern, strange decision, entirely foreign to his previous idle love-making. “I know all about Thorne. He gets hold of our Department Telegraph and sends out a false order, weakens our defences at Cemetery Hill.” The boy got to his feet by this time, steadying himself by Caroline’s shoulder. “They are down on us in a moment.” A look of pain, not physical, shot across his face, but he mastered it. “And she gave it to him, the commission; my sister Edith!” he continued bitterly. “Oh!” said Caroline; “you know——” “I know this. If my father were here, he’d see her. As he isn’t here, I will attend to it. Send her to me.” He spoke weakly, but in a clear voice and a most imperative manner. He took his hand off Caroline’s shoulder. If he were to deal with this, so grave and critical a situation, he must do it without feminine support. By a great effort he held himself resolutely erect, repeating his command. “Send her to me.” “No,” said Caroline faintly, just as Mrs. Varney reëntered the room. “What is it?” asked the mother. “He wants to see Edith,” returned the girl. “Not now, Wilfred,” persisted Mrs. Varney; “you are weak and ill, and Edith——” “Tell her to come here, I must see her at once,” repeated Wilfred. Mrs. Varney instantly divined the reason. Caroline had told him about the telegraph office, but she could see no advantage to be gained by the interview he sought. “It won’t do you any good, Wilfred,” she said. “She won’t speak a word to anybody about it.” “I don’t want her to speak to me,” returned the boy grimly; “I am going to speak to her.” “But some other time, Wilfred,” urged his mother. “No, no; immediately,” but as no one made the slightest effort toward complying with his demand, “Very well,” he continued, moving slowly toward the door, and by a determined effort keeping his feet. “If you won’t send her to me, I will——” “There, there,” said Mrs. Varney, interposing swiftly; “if you must, you must. Since you insist, I will call her.” “I do insist.”