reach where water glimmered in a still and golden pool.

Lois knelt there on the bank. The soldiers’ linen I had seen in her arms was piled beside her. In a willow basket, newly woven, I saw a heap of clean, wet shirts and tow-cloth rifle-frocks.

She heard me behind her — I took care that she should — but she made no sign that she had heard or knew that I was there. Even when I spoke she continued busy with her suds and shirts; and I walked around the gravelly basin and seated myself near her, cross-legged on the sand, both hands clasping my knees.

“Well?” she asked, still scrubbing, and her hair was fallen in curls about her brow — hair thicker and brighter, though scarce longer, than my own. But Lord! The wild-rose