scattered stories and rumors that had reached her about the strange conduct of Clancy after he was taken to the hospital,—­especially about his heart-broken wail when told that it was Lieutenant Hayne who had rescued him and little Kate from hideous death.  Somewhere, somehow, this man was connected with the mystery which encircled the long-hidden truth in Hayne’s trouble.  Could it be possible that he did not realize it, and that her sister had discovered it?  Could it be—­oh, heaven! no!—­could it be that Kate was standing between that lonely and friendless man and the revelation that would set him right?  She could not believe it of her!  She would not believe it of her sister!  And yet what did Kate mean by charging Mrs. Clancy to watch him,—­that drunken husband?  What could it mean but that she was striving to prevent Mr. Hayne’s ever hearing the truth?  She longed to learn more and solve the riddle once and for all.  They were still earnestly talking together down in the dining-room; but she could not listen.  Kate knew her so well that she had not closed the door leading into the hall, though both she and the laundress of Company B had lowered their voices.  It was disgraceful at best, thought Miss Travers, it was beneath her sister, that she should hold any private conversation with a woman of that class.  Confidences with such were contamination.  She half determined to rush down-stairs and put an end to it, but was saved the scene:  fresh young voices, hearty ringing tones, and the stamp of heavy boot-heels were heard at the door; and as Rayner entered, ushering in Royce and Graham, Mrs. Rayner and the laundress fled once more to the kitchen.

When the sisters found themselves alone again, it was late in the evening.  Mrs. Rayner came to Nellie’s room and talked on various topics for some little time, watching narrowly her sister’s face.  The young girl hardly spoke at all.  It was evident to the elder what her thoughts must be.

“I suppose you think I should explain Mrs. Clancy’s agitation and mysterious conduct, Nellie,” she finally and suddenly said.

“I do not want you to tell me anything, Kate, that you yourself do not wish to tell me.  You understand, of course, how I happened to be there?”

“Oh, certainly.  I wasn’t thinking of that.  You couldn’t help hearing; but you must have thought it queer,—­her being so agitated, I mean.”

No answer.

“Didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t thinking of her at all.”

“What did you think, then?” half defiantly, yet trembling and growing white.

“I thought it strange that you should be talking with her in such a way.”

“She was worried about her husband,—­his drinking so much,—­and came to consult me.”

“Why should she—­and you—­show such consternation at his connection with the name of Mr. Hayne?”