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On one side of a post card she wrote the address of Alexis Bowinski, and on the other she penned in her cramped neat writing, one line: "Her name is Lois Chalmers. Hotel LeRoy."

Excuse all errors if you pleas will. This is goodby from Your soldier friend, A. BOWINSKI. Miss Mink read the letter through, then she sat down limply in a kitchen chair and stared at the stove. Twice she half rose to get the pen and ink on the shelf above the coal box, but each time she changed her mind, folded her arms indignantly, and went back to her stern contemplation of the stove.

They had reached her gate by this time, but Bowinski paused before entering: "Madame mistakes!" he said with dignity. "I was not drafted. The day America enter the war, that day I give up my job I have held for five years, and enlist. America is my country, she take me in when I have nowhere to go. It is my proud moment when I fight for her!"

Then a look of apprehension swept over her face. Was this young man actually proposing to profane the virgin air of her domicile with the fumes of tobacco? "Perhaps you do not like that I should smoke?" Bowinski said instantly. "I beg you excuse, I "

She mended his clothes, and made fancy dishes for him, she knit him everything that could be knitted, including an aviator's helmet for which he had no possible use. She talked about "my soldier" to any one who would listen. Bowinski accepted her attention with grave politeness.

Private Bowinski, surnamed Alexis, sat with knees awkwardly hunched and obediently turned the leaves of the large album, politely scanning the placid countenances of departed Minks for several generations. Miss Mink, moving about in the inner room, glanced in at him from time to time.

He come from Russia. He's got curly hair and big sort of sad eyes, and " "Bowinski," the man repeated, running his finger down a ledger, "A. Bowinski, Surgical Ward 5-C. Through that door, two corridors to the right midway down the second corridor."

She wanted to thank Miss Chalmers for her courtesy, but two dapper young officers had joined the group around her making a circle of masculine admirers. Miss Mink slipped away unnoticed and presented herself at the door marked "Administration Building." "Can you tell me where the broken-legged soldiers are?" she asked timidly of a man at a desk. "Who do you want to see?" "Alexis Bowinski.

There, lying asleep, with his injured leg suspended from a pulley from which depended two heavy weights, lay Bowinski. Miss Mink slipped into the chair between his cot and the wall. After the first glance at his pale unshaven face and the pain-lined brow, she forgot all about herself. She felt only overwhelming pity for him, and indignation at the treatment to which he was being subjected.

Miss Mink realized with a glow of satisfaction, that many curious heads were craning in her direction. For the first time since she had gone forward forty years ago to confess her faith, she was an object of interest to the congregation! When the benediction was pronounced several women came forward ostensibly to speak to her, but in reality to ask Bowinski to go home to dinner with them.