“It’s going to be worth while in another way too,” returned her friend, with an appreciative glance at the face which always reminded him of her mother’s, it was so serenely sweet and full of character.

“It is?  How?” she asked, eagerly, for his tone was emphatic.

“I have few patients on my list who learn so soon to bear this sort of thing as quietly as you are bearing it,” he said.  “Don’t think that doesn’t count.”  Then he rose to go.

Celia hardly heard the leave-takings, her mind was so happily busy with this bit of rare praise from one whose respect was well worth earning.  And half an hour afterward, as Lanse stooped to gather her up and carry her up-stairs to bed, she looked back at Captain Rayburn, who still sat beside her couch, and said, with softly shining eyes: 

“The colonel almost wouldn’t be the second lieutenant if he could, Uncle Ray.”

Lanse, lifting his sister in his strong arms, remarked, “I should say not.  Why should he?”

Celia and Captain Rayburn, laughing, exchanged a sympathetic, comprehending glance.

* * * * *

CHAPTER VI

Three times Jefferson Birch knocked on his sister Charlotte’s door.  Then he turned the knob.  The door would not open.  “Fiddle!” he called, softly, but got no reply.

“You’re not asleep, I know,” he said, firmly, at the keyhole.  “I can see a light from outside, if you have got it all plugged up here.  Let me in.  I’ve some important news for you.”

Charlotte’s lock turned and she threw the door open.  “Well, come in,” she said.  “I didn’t mean anybody to know, but I’m dying to tell somebody, and I can trust you.”

“Of course!” affirmed Jeff, entering with an air of curiosity.  “What’s doing?  Painting?”

The table by the window was strewn with artist’s materials, drawings, sheets of water-colour paper and tumblers of coloured water.  In the midst of this confusion lay one piece of nearly finished work—­the interior of an unfurnished room, showing wall decoration and nothing more.  The colouring caught Jeff’s eye.

“That’s stunning!” he commented, catching up the board upon which the colour drawing was stretched.  “What’s it for?  Going to put in some furniture?”

Charlotte laughed.  “No, I’m not going to put in any furniture,” she said.  “This is just to show a scheme for decorating a den—­a man’s den.  Do you really like it?”

“It’s great!” Jeff stood the board up against the wall and backed away, studying it with interest.  “Those dull reds and blues will show off his guns and pictures and things in fine shape.  How did you ever think it up?”

Charlotte brought out some sheets of wall-paper, as Jeff thought, but he saw at once that they were hand-work.  They represented in full-size detail the paper used upon the den walls.  Jeff studied them with interest.