Among the doughboys who loved to help around the Salvation Army hut was a quiet fellow who never talked much about himself, yet everybody liked him and trusted him. No one knew much about him, or where he came from, and he never told about his folks at home as some did. But he used to come in from the trenches during the day and do anything he could to be useful around the hut, which was run by two sisters. Even when he had to stand watch at night he would come back in the daytime and help. They could not persuade him to sleep when he ought. Other fellows came and went, talked about their troubles and their joys, got their bit of sympathy or cheer and went their way, but this fellow came every day and worked silently, always on the job. They made him their chief doughnut dipper and he seemed to love the work and did it well. Then one day his company moved, and he came no more. The girls often asked if anyone knew anything about him, but no one did. Once in a while a brief note would come from him up at the front in the trenches a few miles to the north, but never more than a word of greeting. One morning the girls were making doughnuts, hard at work, and suddenly the former chief doughnut dipper stumbled into the hut. He looked tired and dusty and it was evident by the way he walked that he was footsore. “Gee! It’s good to see you,” he said, sinking down in his old place by the stove. They gave him a cup of steaming coffee and all the doughnuts he could eat and waited for his story, but he did not begin. “Well, how are you?” asked one of the girls, hoping to start him. “Oh, all right, thanks,” he said meekly. “Where is your company?” “Up the line in some woods.” “How far is it?” “About ten miles.” The girls felt they were not getting on very fast in acquiring information. “Did you walk all that way in the dust and sun?” “Most of it. Sometimes I was in the fields.” “Were you on watch last night?” “Ye-ah.” “Then you didn’t have any sleep?” “No.” “Why did you come over here then?” “I wanted to see you.” There was a sound of a deep hunger in his voice. “Well, we’re awfully glad to see you, surely. Is there anything we can do for you?” “No, Just let me look at you”—there was frank honesty in his eyes, a deep undertone of reverence in his voice, not even a hint of gallantry or flattery, only a loyal homage. “Just let me look at you—and——” he hesitated. “And what?” “And cook some doughnuts.” “Why, of course!” said the girls cheerily, “but you must lie down and sleep awhile first. We’ll fix a place for you.” “I don’t want to lie down,” said the soldier determinedly, “I don’t want to waste the time.” “But it wouldn’t be wasted. You need the sleep.”