And yet this Thursday night there were two or three little parties peering in at the southward windows, some of whom came down from the general's quarters very late. To Mrs. Crook's laughing suggestion that they should "toddle down after tea" Mrs. Archer had entered gentle protest. It was too late. They were not dressed. She feared Lilian was too tired. What mother would not oppose her precious daughter's making her appearance at a dance in travelling garb, after a day of driving? To her mother's protest Lilian had at first made no rejoinder. The flush of the first few minutes of welcomed arrival soon left her winsome face, and the resultant pallor emphasized her mother's edict--that she was too tired. But it was not long before they noted, all of them--father, mother and hostess--that her thoughts were only there at the dance, that her ears were attentive only to the strains of music that, once in a while, came wafting upward from the hall, and when a little later, refreshed by tea and a bountiful supper, they again returned to the parlor and the sound of the dance, Mrs. Crook caught the longing in Lilian's eyes. "Oh, come," she said, "let's just run down a few minutes and peep in; Lilian wants to see, and I'll send word in, sidewise, that will bring somebody out with a jump." They seized their wraps and started, Archer gallantly tendering his arm to the commander's wife, but she would none of it. "Nonsense! I've got to pilot _you_! That walk is steep and crooked and pitch dark when you get among the cedars. I want to chat with Mrs. Archer," and the old soldier thanked her in his heart. More than ever before he wished to have that arm about his own little girl this night. Was it possible she too felt the premonition that had come to him? Had her mother, after all, told her of the little hints they had received? Something had come. He could swear it. Something to make her strangely silent, but eager, fluttering, nervous--something that prompted her as they neared the building, and the little hand clinging to her father's arm shook with strange excitement, to bend forward close to their friend and hostess, and just as the latter was about to hail some young officer on the steps, Lilian interposed. "Oh--please," was all she said, but her fingers had caught the fluttering fold of the mantle, and Mrs. Crook turned at once. "You'd rather not?" she asked, with quick, sympathetic understanding. "I won't then. Plenty of time. Let's watch the dance first." And so saying she had marshalled them close to the southward windows, Lilian and her father at the near-most, she and Mrs. Archer going on to the next.