“Is Margaret-Mary coming down?”

“She may later, for the sweets.”

“Those aren’t her spoons and forks.”

“Well, well,” said Bronson, “so they aren’t”; but he did not have them changed.

The General in his dinner coat, perfectly groomed, immaculate, found Jean in rose and silver waiting for him.

“How gay we are,” he said, and pinched her cheek.

Teddy in white linen and patent leathers also approved.  “You’ve got on your spangly dwess, and it makes you pwetty—­”

“Oh, Ted, is it just my clothes that make me pretty?”

“I didn’t mean that.  Only tonight you’re so nice and—­shining.”

She shone, indeed, with such effulgence, that it was a wonder that the General did not suspect.  But he did not, even when she said, “We have a surprise for you.”

“For me, my dear?”

“Yes.  A parcel—­it came this afternoon.  We want you to untie the string.”

“Where is it?” Teddy demanded.

“On the table in the blue room.”

Teddy rushed in ahead of the rest, came back and reported, “It’s a big one.”

It was a big one, cone-shaped and tied up in brown paper.  It was set on a heavy carved table, a length of tapestry was under it and hid the legs of the table.

“It looks like a small tree,” the General remarked.  “But why all this air of mystery?”

He was plainly bored by the fuss they were making.  He was tired, and he wanted his dinner.

But Jean, in an excited voice, was telling him to cut the string, and Bronson was handing him a knife.

And then—­the paper dropped and everybody was laughing, and Teddy was screaming wildly and he was staring at the khaki-clad upper half of a tall young soldier whose silver-blond hair was clipped close, and whose hand went up in salute.

“It’s Cousin Derry.  It’s Cousin Derry,” Teddy was shouting, and Margaret-Mary piped up, “It’s Tousin Dee.”

Derry stepped out from behind the table, where leaning forward and wrapped up he had lent himself to the illusion, and put both hands on the General’s shoulders.  “Glad to see me, Dad?”

“Glad; my dear boy—­” It was almost too much for him.

Yet as supported by his son’s arm, they went a moment later into the dining room, he had a sense of renewed strength in the youth and vigor of this youth who was bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh.  If his own feet could not march here were feet which would march for him.

There were flowers on the table, most extravagantly, for these war times, orchids; and there were tall white candles in silver holders.

Jean shining between the candles was a wonder for the world to gaze upon.  Derry couldn’t keep his eyes off her.  This was no longer a little nun of the Toy Shop, yet he held the vision of the little nun in his heart, lest he should forget that she had suffered.