"Geoffrey Heron," said the girl, turning to one of the men, "you were Captain Heron in the old days. You remember that you were in the army." "Was I?" He started. "No; yes. I remember. I was Captain Heron. We rode out of Portsmouth Dockyard Gates when we came home--all that were left of us. The women were waiting on the Hard outside, and they laughed and cried, and caught our hands, and ran beside the horses. Our ranks were thin, for we had been pretty well knocked about. I remember now. Yes--yes, I was--I was Captain Heron." "Go into that room. You will find your old uniform. Take off the blue flannels, and show us how you looked when you were in uniform." As if it was nothing at all unusual, the man rose and obeyed. It was observed that he now carried himself differently. He stood erect, with shoulders squared, head up, and limbs straight. They all obeyed whatever this girl ordered them to do. Christine began to play again. She played another March, but always loud and triumphant. When the soldier came back he was dressed in the uniform which he had worn in the time of the Great Discovery, when they left off taking account of time. "Oh!" cried Christine, springing to her feet. "See! See! Here is a soldier! Here is a man who has fought!" He stood before them dressed in a scarlet tunic and a white helmet; a red sash hung across him, and on his breast were medals. At sight of him the girl called Dorothy Oliphant changed countenance; all caught their breath. The aspect of the man carried them, indeed, back to the old, old time. "Welcome home, Captain Heron," said Christine. "We have followed your campaign day by day." "We are home again," the soldier replied, gravely. "Unfortunately, we have left a good many of our regiment behind." "Behind? You mean--they--are--dead." Christine shuddered. The others shuddered. Even Captain Heron himself for a moment turned pale. But he was again in the Past, and the honor of his regiment was in his hands. "You have fought with other men," said Christine. "Let me look in your face. Yes--it is changed. You have the look of the fighting man in the old pictures. You look as if you mean to have something, whatever it is, whether other men want it or not. Oh, you have fought with men! It is wonderful! Perhaps you have even killed men. Were you dreadfully afraid?" Captain Heron started and flushed. "Afraid?" he asked. "Afraid?" "Oh!" Christine clapped her hands. "I wanted to see that look. It is the look of a man in sudden wrath. Forgive me! It is terrible to see a man thus moved. No, Captain Heron, no! I understand. An officer in your regiment could be afraid of nothing." She sat down, still looking at him. "I have seen a soldier," she said. Then she sprang to her feet. "Now," she cried, "it is our turn. Come with me, you ladies; and you, gentlemen, go into that room. For one night we will put on the dresses you used to wear. Come!"