“Bill Farnsworth, the Westerner!”
“Yes; do you know him?”
“No; not at all. But I saw something about him in the paper,——”
“You did! Oh, what was it? I’m interested, of course, in anything pertaining to him or his work.”
“I can’t seem to remember; I can’t exactly place it; but I recollect seeing his name. And are you, too, engaged to an enlisted man, Miss Barlow?”
“No,” said Helen, “but I hope to be.”
“Quite right! Next to serving one’s country, is being the helpmeet of one who does. Have you,—ah,—selected——”
“No, my selective draft hasn’t yet been made,” and Bumble’s jolly little face smiled broadly; “you see, there are so many fascinating men in the service,—indeed, ’most any man is fascinating in uniform.”
“I wear uniform,” said Herron.
“I know, but lots of others do, too, and every time I meet a new one I lose my heart to him.”