"He has always blamed me for that," she went on. "One of the reasons why I wanted to live here, instead of at Fort Wayne, was that I might have my mother to help me take care of the baby. She knew more than I did; was wiser and more experienced in every way, and I thought the little lad would have a better chance. Instead, as you know, he took cold on the way here and did not get well, so his father has never forgiven me." The tears came fast and her white lips quivered. "Don't, Katherine," he said. It was the first time he had called her by name, and she noted it, vaguely, in the midst of her suffering. "Don't, Katherine," he repeated. "All we can do in this world is the thing that seems to us the best. We have no concern with the results, except as a guide for the future, and sometimes, years afterward, we see that what seemed like a bitter loss in reality was gain. Some day you may be glad that you lost your boy." "Glad? Glad I have lost my only child? Doctor, what are you thinking of!" "Of you. Whatever troubles you troubles me, also. You know that, don't you?" For an instant she was frightened, but his calm friendliness reassured her. "Thank you," she returned, "you have always been good to me." "I shall always try to be. Nothing that comes to you is without meaning for me, and you will always have at least one friend." There was an eloquent silence, then the tension of the moment snapped, and he released her hand. "I'm silly," she laughed hysterically, wiping her eyes. "Have you any medicine for silliness?" "If I had, I should keep it for those who need it worse than you do. I wish you would go outdoors more. Walk on the parade-ground and across to your mother's,--those two places are certainly safe,--and when you get tired of that, go over to Mrs. Franklin's. She's a nice little woman and she needs cheering up, too. I have a suspicion, Mrs. Howard, that the temperament which urges a man to be a soldier is very seldom elastic enough to include the domestic hearth." Katherine's face brightened, for she had not thought of that, and the suggestion that others had the same trouble was not without its dubious consolation. For an hour or more he talked to her, telling her bits of news from the barracks which he thought would interest her, and offering fragments of philosophy as the occasion permitted. "You're a tonic," she said lightly, as he rose to go; "the blues are all gone." "I'm glad of that. Now remember, when anything goes wrong, tell me. Perhaps I can help you--at least I can try." Half-way across the parade-ground he turned back to smile at her as she stood at the window, and she waved a friendly hand in response. It was at this unlucky moment that the Lieutenant left the offices, having had high words with the Captain about the condition of the garrison and the possibility of a war with England.