she remembered Edith Whiton, the sport, and her harum-scarum oddities. Yes, they were all dear girls. And how glad she was that she had become a Pioneer, and a real blue robin, by joining the Blue Bird group.

And what a dear Mrs. Morrow, the Pioneer director, was that day the Pioneers called. Oh, that was the day the “Mystic” had passed. Who would have thought she would turn out to be Mrs. Van Vorst, who was so lovely. And that ride with Dr. Morrow to the big gray house, and then she mentally saw herself, with that handkerchief over her eyes, talking to the Princess, Nita, the little hunchbacked girl. And what good friends they had become through those history lessons!

The many useful things she had learned from the Pioneer hikes and crafts, and the joys she had experienced from their many sports and activities had certainly proved worth while. And the “overcomes” she had fought for by adopting the Pioneer motto, “I can,” had certainly meant something in her life.

But they did have gloriously good times at Camp Laff-a-Lot at Eagle Lake, with the Boy Scouts, Miss Camphelia, Miss Dummy, and all the other good sports. Then, too, there was the surprise, on her return to learn the good that had come to Dick through the money so kindly loaned by Mrs. Van Vorst. Indeed, that one year had brought many new things into her life, for—O dear, there was all that silver to be cleaned! For, now that her mother kept no maid, this duty, with many other menial tasks, had devolved upon Nathalie. Oh, how she hated that job!

With a resigned air, however, she managed to carry the basket of silver from the sideboard to the kitchen table, and then returned to the dining-room for the tea-service. After getting her cleaning cloths, her brushes, and the scouring-powder, with vigorous determination she began to rub and polish.

But somehow everything acted aggravatingly mean, for she dropped the polish, and the powder flew all over; then she knocked the tray and the knives and forks clattered to the floor. O dear! what ailed things anyway? And how her arms ached trying to polish those horrid tarnished stains on the teapot! The tableware had never seemed so obdurate, nor the means for making it bright so utterly ineffective.

“Oh, I guess I am the one who is ailing,” she exclaimed glumly, as she suddenly realized that her mind was not on her task, and that the elation of playing at being a patriot had departed, with Dick evidently, leaving her as limp as a rag. Oh, it does seem such a shame that we had to get into that war—Nathalie bit off her thought like a thread, resolved not to let her mind dwell on that forbidden topic. But how angelic her mother had acted when Dick went. Well, she was a dear, anyway, so brave. But suppose he never should come back after all. Something suddenly seemed to snap in the girl’s breast, and down went her head on the tray, into a heap of powder, while a great sob strangled out of her throat.

O horrors! Nathalie’s brown head bobbed up from the tray, not very serenely either, for she had heard a step on the kitchen porch. Oh, Helen always came in that way! “Where is my handkerchief?” The girl grabbed desperately at something white lying on the tray, dimly seen through a blur of tears, and began to scrub her nose energetically with alas, not her handkerchief, but the powder-cloth with which she had been polishing the silver! “Ah chee! Ah chee!” sneezed Nathalie again and again, while groping frenziedly, but blindly, for her handkerchief. She must have dropped it. And then Helen’s arms were around her, and she was kissing the flushed cheek.

“What’s struck you, honey girl?” she asked in that gentle way of hers. “Have you got the influenza? But here’s a very necessary article at times, if that’s what you’re after,” she finished with a laugh, as she stooped and picked up Nathalie’s handkerchief from the floor.

“Influenza? No,” blurted out Nathalie savagely, tortured to a pitch of desperation at her unfortunate predicament. “I’ve been rubbing my nose with that dirty old piece of rag I clean the silver with. Serves me right, I suppose, for being such a fool as to cry when I should be ‘on my job,’ as Dick says.” She shamefacedly tried to hide her red eyes from her friend’s keen gaze.

“Oh, well, it will do you good to cry, Nathalie, dear,” advised Helen softly, as she stroked the brown head caressingly, “for you were quite a heroine when Dick went away, so courageous and cheery. Mrs. Morrow says you are the nerviest Pioneer she knows.”

“But I’m not,” confessed Nathalie honestly, “in fact, I’m beginning to think that I’m a bluff. But anyway, I’m glad to get a bit of praise, something to warm me up, for I have felt like a congealed icicle for the last few days. Yes, I have smiled and smiled like the poor Spartan boy, while the fox of Grief was gnawing a hole into my internals. That sounds like one of Lillie Bell’s dramatics, doesn’t it?” she smiled pathetically into her friend’s kindly eyes.

“But, Helen, you are a dear, anyway,” cried Nathalie in a sudden burst of admiration for her tried and trusted friend, who was always such a stanch and timely comforter. “And do you know,” she added, swinging about in her chair with the teapot in one hand and the despised polishing-cloth in the other, “you grow better-looking every day. Oh, I think you are just lovely!”

“I lovely?” mocked Helen, opening her eyes in surprise at this unexpected praise. “Well, Blue Robin, what started you on that trail? You must have been kissing the Blarney Stone, for you are handing me out ‘the stuff,’ as the boys say, for fair. Poor me, with a knob on my nose, a wide mouth, and green eyes—to call me lovely is a libel on the word.”

“Oh, Helen, your eyes are just lovely—every one says that, for they are so expressive,” retorted her friend loyally; “and as for the knob on your nose, no one would know it was there if you weren’t constantly telling them about it. But I don’t care what you look like anyway,” she added determinedly, “for I think you are a love of a friend. But when do you go to France?” she finished abruptly.

“I don’t quite know yet,” replied the girl; “perhaps not until a month or so. But mother is brave about letting me go. She says it will be a fine experience for me,—as long as I don’t have to go ‘over the top.’ Oh, you finished your service-flag! It’s a Jim Dandy!” Helen plunged recklessly into another topic, again blaming herself for her trick of alluding to forbidden subjects, for she had seen Nathalie’s lips quiver as she said “Over the top.”

“Yes, I finished it, and now the neighbors know where we stand, even if you consider me a pacifist,” said the girl a little defiantly. “Well, perhaps I shall think differently some day,” with a quickly repressed sigh.

“Yes, and that day is coming very soon, too, Blue Robin,” rejoined Helen; “for I’ll bet you a box of candy that you won’t be a pacifist after you hear Mrs. Morrow talk on liberty. Surely you haven’t forgotten that we are to go to a Liberty Tea at her house this afternoon?” she inquired as she saw her friend’s face settle down into an expression of gloom.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll go,” retorted Nathalie quickly, “for I don’t feel a bit Pioneery this morning, and then I have all this silver to clean.”

“But, Blue Robin,” returned her friend cheerily, “I’m going to help you finish up that silver, and then I’m going home to dress for this afternoon. Then I’m coming over here and just make you go to that Liberty Tea with me. You know,