hole. "Is Captain Gurley's aunt good fun?"

"Mrs. Arnold?" Nancy dimpled with a merry smile. "She is our 'Mrs. Malaprop.' Her husband secured a big contract to furnish clothing to the government at the breaking out of the war. Now he is very wealthy. Mrs. Arnold does not approve of me."

Goddard colored hotly as he recalled the conversation of the night before. "Why not?" he demanded.

"Because she does not like my friendship with her nephew. When they first came to Washington, the Arnolds lived at the National Hotel, but last year Mr. Arnold bought a vacant lot on our street, and has built a large double house with a ballroom, if you please. I believe Mrs. Arnold is to give her house-warming some time soon. It was she who made the original remark about having a 'spinal staircase in the back,' and Doctor Boyd told her it was quite the proper place for it."

"Is Mrs. Bennett a friend of yours?"

"Mrs. Bennett?" echoed Nancy. "She is Mrs. Arnold's shadow. Aunt Metoaca sees more of her than I do. I somehow don't believe Mrs. Bennett cares for me. She is quite literary in her tastes, and I hear is writing a book about Washington. It ought to prove interesting reading," Nancy's dimples appeared again, "as she imagines every man she meets is in love with her. Her husband, Colonel Bennett, is stationed in the quartermaster general's office, and is just as nice as he can be, and perfectly wrapped up in his pretty wife. They were married about two years ago. Little is known here of Mrs. Bennett's antecedents."

"Which way are you going, Miss Newton?" asked Goddard, as they crossed the street and walked through the Capitol grounds. He looked with admiration at the stately lines of the building which sheltered the law-makers, and bared his head to the Stars and Stripes floating lazily to and fro from the flag poles on each wing of the Capitol. "I can't help it," with a quick, boyish laugh. "I have seen too many die in defense of the flag not to salute it on all occasions."

Nancy nodded comprehendingly. "It is everything to have an ideal," she said softly. "I am going down A Street to see one of Doctor John's charity patients."

Absorbed in watching his companion, Goddard did not notice the direction they were walking until Nancy called his attention to an unpretentious, rambling building standing on the corner of First and A streets. "Old Capitol Prison," she said, in explanation. "In 1800 it was a tavern; then after the burning of the Capitol by the British it was used by both houses of Congress, hence the name, 'Old Capitol.'"

Goddard stopped and inspected the building with interest. As his eyes passed along the rows on rows of barred windows, he was attracted by the actions of one of the sentries. After watching him for a few seconds, he turned to Nancy.

"Something is wrong over there," he said briefly. "If you will wait here, I will go over and investigate." Without waiting for a reply, he crossed the street and accosted the sentry. "What's the trouble here?"

The sentry wheeled about and swung his bayonet to the charge; then, recognizing the uniform and shoulder straps, he lowered his Springfield and saluted.

"It's the prisoner there, Major," pointing to a woman who was leaning as far out of an open window on the ground floor as the bars would permit. "I can't make her go back."

"Call the corporal of the guard."

"I have, Major; but the devil a bit of good that did me. She wouldn't pay any more attention to his orders than to mine."

"Well, then, why not stop shouting at the woman, and leave her alone?"

"It's against orders for any prisoner, man or woman, to approach near enough to touch the window sill or the bars. The corporal says I'm to shoot her unless she moves back, and the superintendent says the same. Damn it! Do they think I 'listed to shoot women?" He mopped his heated face. "Last week they court-martialed a guard for not obeying orders; so I must do it." Then, in a loud, authoritative voice, he called, "For the last time, ma'am, get back from that window. I'll count three; then I'll fire. One——" His rifle jumped to his shoulder, and he took aim. The woman stood as if carved from stone, gazing steadily at the sentry, down whose white face beads of perspiration were trickling. "Two——"

"Wait," whispered Goddard, then shouted: "Look out, madam; there's a mouse!"

With a convulsive start, the woman sprang back from the window. The sentry dropped the butt of his gun on the sidewalk, and turned gratefully to Goddard.

"Thanks, Major. If that prisoner shows her face again, I'll just start some real mice through the window." And, saluting, he resumed his beat.

Nancy did not wait, but joined Goddard before he could recross the street.

"I go down this way," she said, and Goddard, suiting his step to hers, strolled with her along A Street. "What train do you propose taking to Winchester, Major?"

"The nine o'clock, if that is convenient for you and your aunt."

"Perfectly so." She stopped before an unpretentious house. "Shall we meet at the depot to-morrow?"

"If you will let me, I will call for you and your aunt."

"We shall be delighted." The front door had been opened by a small boy in answer to Goddard's imperative knock. Nancy turned and held out her hand. "Until then—good-bye." And the door slammed shut.

Turning on his heel, Goddard retraced his steps to the Capitol, but when he reached the building he concluded not to enter, so continued on his way to his boarding house opposite the Ebbitt. On leaving the Capitol grounds, his progress was blocked by a regiment of raw recruits on its way to the front, which halted and "marked time." Their band struck up "Three Hundred Thousand More," and the soldiers instantly sang the stirring words: