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Updated: June 5, 2025
"He had neither the look nor the manner of one." And Sandy marvelled a bit and decided to be on guard. "Maidie," he had said that afternoon, before riding away, "when you get out next week we must take up pistol practice again. You beat me at Leavenworth, but you can't do it now. Got your gun anywhere? the one Dad gave you?" And Dad or Daddy in the Ray household was the "lovingest" of titles.
They bade her send for Miss Porter, and included her in their warm-hearted invitation; but by the time Maidie was able to get a word in edgewise on her own account, and begged them to come and meet Mrs. Dr. Wells and the Red Cross sisterhood, they demurred. The general, in Marion's brief absence, had expressed his opinion of that official head, and the Brents had evidently accepted his views.
And now Saturday morning, while the guns of Alcatraz were booming in salute across the bay and all the garrison was out along the shore or on the seaward heights, waving farewell to the Vinton flotilla, and his mother and Maidie had gone out with the department commander to bid them god-speed, poor Sandy sat wretchedly in his quarters.
Ray before the latter had time to half read the long letter received from her soldier husband, and we take the facts in the order of their revelation. "Think of it, Maidie!" she cried. "Think of it! Gerald's first words, almost, are 'Take good care of that pouch and contents, and now pouch and contents are gone! Whoever dreamed that they would be of such consequence?
"Oh, Maidie!" she said, "I do not think there can be any life so good or so happy as being really given up to our Lord and His work among the sick and poor." "My dear, He can be served if you are in the world, provided you are not OF the world, and if you keep yourself from the evil." "Yes; but why should I run into the world?
A man hit by one of these," he continued musingly, and fingering the fat leaden bullets, "would drop in his tracks. You keep it by you? always?" "I? No!" laughed Maidie. "I'm eager to get to my work, healing not giving gunshot wounds."
Two or three letters lay on the mat inside the door, a huge blue-bottle boomed at a window trying to get out. Lady Kingsmead lay down on Maidie Compton's Chesterfield and wept loudly. "Oh, Gerald, Gerald, how we loved each other," she wailed. "He would have died for me. He very nearly killed himself " Suddenly the foolish woman sat up and pointed an accusing finger at her daughter.
"Yes," said Magdalen, rather wistfully. "I think she generally is so." "Maidie! may I call you by the old home name?" And as Magdalen answered with a kiss and tearful smile, "Do tell me, please, if Polly and Flapsy are nice to you?" Magdalen was taken by surprise at the pressure of the hand and the eyes that gazed into her face full of expression.
The war of words at the back stairs "now trebly thundering swelled the gale," but it is not heard here at the front. His hands have grasped her wrists now. His blond head is bowed down over hers, so that his lips hover close to the part of the dusky hair. "My hat, Maidie," he cries, "or I'll I'll take what I want!"
Well did Marion remember how he had begged her to write her name beneath the picture, and how, for some reason she herself could not describe, she had shrunk from so doing. There had been probably half a dozen pictures of Foster about their quarters at Averill, photographs in evening dress, in ranch rig, in winter garb, in tennis costume, but only one had he of Maidie, and that not of her giving.
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