"It is Blenke, sir."
"And what the devil are you doing—there?" demanded Ray, suspicious, irritated, nervously angered against everything, everybody; never, moreover, approving of Blenke, and knowing well how Hogan disapproved of him.
But Blenke's voice was gentle melancholy, mingled with profound respect.
"Looking for Hogan, sir. I had promised Miss Sanford to return some books. I didn't presume to enter the house, and thought to leave a message with him. I desired, too, to see the lieutenant, sir. My application for transfer to the cavalry has been disapproved, and—I hoped that he might say just a word to help me."
"After that exploit of yours—last month?" And Ray's eyes grew angrier yet. "We have too many questionable characters as it is."
"Lieutenant," spoke the soldier, almost imploringly, "I am doing my best to live down that—most deplorable affair. I was drugged, sir. There can be no other explanation, but my captain still holds it against me, and at the very time I most needed to be here, he has picked me out for detached duty—to go to the wood camp in the Sagamore to-morrow."
And at the instant Priscilla's crisp, even tones were heard at the rear door. "Oh, Blenke? I thought I knew the voice. One moment and I'll strike a light!"
And in that moment Sandy made his escape.
His mother was sitting up waiting for him when, an hour later, he came in. Tenderly, fondly, she kissed him, and for a moment he clung to her. Then, looking in her face, he saw impending question.
"Not—not to-night, mother, darling," he hurriedly spoke. "I do want to talk with you—to tell you, but not to-night. Bear with me just a day or two, and"—then again his arms enfolded her—"trust me."