On stumbled Miss Marilla, nearer and nearer to the oncoming man, till suddenly through a blur of tears she noticed that he wore a uniform. Her heart gave a leap, and for a moment she thought it must be Dick; that he had been playing her a joke by the telegram, and was coming on immediately to surprise her before she had a chance to be disappointed. It was wonderful how the years had done their halo work for Dick with Miss Marilla. She stopped short, trembling, one hand to her throat. Then, as the man drew nearer and she saw his halting gait, saw, too, his downcast eyes and whole dejected attitude, she somehow knew it was not Dick. Never would he have walked to her home in that way. There had been a swagger about little Dick that could not be forgotten. The older Dick, crowned now with many honors, would not have forgotten to hold his head high. Unconscious of her attitude of intense interest she stood with hand still fluttering at her throat, and eyes brightly on the man as he advanced. When he was almost opposite to her, he looked up. He had fine eyes and good features; but his expression was bitter for one so young, and in the eyes there was a look of pain. “Oh! excuse me,” said Miss Marilla, looking around furtively to be sure Mary Amber could not see them so far away. “Are you in a very great hurry?” The young man looked surprised, amused, and slightly bored, but paused politely. “Not specially,” he said; and there was a tone of dry sarcasm in his voice. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He lifted the limp little trench-cap, and paused to rest his lame knee. “Why, I was wondering if you would mind coming in and eating dinner with me,” spoke Miss Marilla eagerly from a dry throat of embarrassment. “You see my nephew’s a returned soldier, and I’ve just got word he can’t come. The dinner’s all ready to be dished up, and it needn’t take you long.” “Dinner sounds good to me,” said the young man with a grim glimmer of a smile. “I guess I can accommodate you, madam. I haven’t had anything to eat since I left the camp last night.” “Oh! You poor child!” said Miss Marilla, beaming on him with a welcoming smile. “Now isn’t it fortunate I should have asked _you_?” as if there had been a throng of passing soldiers from which she might have chosen. “But are you sure I’m not keeping you from some one else who is waiting for you?” “If there’s any one else waiting anywhere along this road for me, it’s all news to me, madam; and anyhow you got here first, and I guess you have first rights.” He had swung into the easy, familiar vernacular of the soldier now; and for the moment his bitterness was held in abeyance, and the really nice look in his eyes shone forth. “Well, then, we’ll just go along in,” said Miss Marilla, casting another quick glance toward the house. “And I think I’m most fortunate to have found you. It’s so disappointing to get dinner ready for company and then not have any.”