When Blue Robin saw that her two schoolmates had foisted themselves upon the party, she felt indignantly grieved, as the snub they had administered to her still rankled. She had been on the point of revealing the incident to Nita, in one of their little confidential chats, when that young lady had remained at Seven Pillars over night, as she loved to do. But second thoughts stayed her, as she knew her friend’s loyal devotion to her, and her vehement way of disposing of people when they displeased her, the result of her spoiled childhood. Nathalie, also, was afraid to offend the two girls, for fear they would not continue to take lessons of Philip de Brie, and she knew that would mean a loss to him. Van Darrell, the Camp Mills soldier, and Philip had fraternized as “mates”; for the latter, by his life on the battlefield, and in the trenches, and with his experiences in a German prison-camp, had a stock of information at his command that Van was greedy to devour. With the wholehearted patriotic enthusiasm of our young American boys when called to the colors, he was keen to be on the “firing-line,” so as to get a chance, as he expressed it, “to get a few jabs at the Big Willie gang.” Philip’s deep appreciation of Nathalie’s kindness to him, and also that of her friends, was not only expressed in words, but by the warm, eloquent glances of his dark eyes. His deferential courtesy to all, his chivalrous manner towards her and Janet, and his kindly, winning way of making friends with the children, had won the girl’s admiration. Nevertheless she had noticed that it was Janet who had won his deepest regard. It was to her that he turned with questioning eyes when anything of moment came up, on her that his admiring, ardent glances fell when that young lady appeared in some simple, but fluffy, bewitching little costume, which she had taken to doing lately, somewhat to Nathalie’s surprise. When he grew tired and showed a restlessness, a desire to be free of the merry-makers, a pleased look would dawn in his eyes when they left him to the ministrations of the head nurse. The somber shadows in his eyes would light with a strange glow as she hovered about him, trying to make him comfortable, or giving him the medicine that he probably would have forgotten if she had not been there to give it to him. And Janet? Well, she had been, as it were, curiously transformed into a new creature, seemingly, by the sweet pity in her soft eyes, and the flush on her winsome face, as, with tireless patience and quiet diligence, she performed her duties. Evidently, for the nonce, her vocation of mingled pacifist, farmerette, and suffragette had been relegated to the past.