The Pulaskian., 1917-05-25
'It's the truth" doggedlv.

twol
 "When are you going to the hospi- tal?"
 Tomorrow"
 "Is that Wilson's hospitaI?" "Yes."
 Alas for his resolve! The red haze of jealousy came again. "You'H be see- ing him every day, I suppose"
 T dare say. I shall also be seeing twenty or thirty other doctors, and a hundred or so men patients, not to mention visitors. Joe, you're not ra- tional"
 "No," he said heavily "Tm not. If it's got to be someone, Sidney, I'd rather have it the roomer upstairs than Wilson. There's a lot of talk about Wilson,"
 "It isn't necessary to malign my friends"
 He rose.
 "Wilson had better look out. I'll be watching. If I see him playing any of his tricks around you-well, he'd better look out !'
 That, as it turned out, was Joe's farewell. He had reached the break ing-point. He gave her a long look, blinked, and walked rapidly out to the Street. Some of the dignity of his retreat was lost by the fact that the cat followed him, close at his heels.
 Sidney was hurt, greatly troubled. She even shed a tear or two, very surreptitiously; and then, being human and much upset, and the cat startling her by it's sudden return, she shooed it off the veranda and set an imaginary dog after it. Whereupon, feeling some what better, she went in. and locked the balcony window end proceeded up- stairs.
 Le Moyne's light was still going. The rest of the household slept. She paused outside the door.
 Are you sleepy ?"-very softly.
 There was a movement inside, the sound of book put down. Then: "No, indeed"
 T may not see you in the morning. I leave tomorrow"
 "Just a minute"
 From the sounds, she judged that he was putting on his shabby gray cSat. The next moment he had opened the door and stepped out into the cor ridor.
 'I believe you had forgotten!"
 q? Certainly not. I started down. stairs while ago, but you had visi- tor"
 "Only Joe Drummond."
 He gazed down at her quizzicalIy.
 "And-is Joe more reasonable?"
 He will be. He knows that r. that I shall not marry him."
 "Poor chap! He'll buck up, of course. But it's little hard just now. When do you leave?"
 "Just after breakfast"
 q am going very early. Perhaps"
 He hesitated. Then, hurriedly:
 q got little present for you-noth- ing much, but your mother was quite willing. In fact, we bought it to- gether."
 He went back into his room, and re- turned with a small box. She opened it with excited fingers. Ticking away on it's satin bed was small gold watch.
 "You'l need it, you see," he ex- plained nervously.
 "A watch" said Sidney, eyes on it. "A dear little watch, to pin on and not put in a pocket. Why. you're the best person!"
 T was afraid you might think it presumptuous," he said. T haven't any right, of course. And then, your mother said you wouldn't be offend ed"
 Don't apologize for making me so happy!'' she cried. "It's wonderful, really. And the little hand is for pulsesi How many queer things you know!"
 After that she must pin it on, and slip in to stand before his mirror and inspect the result. It gave Le Moyne a queer thrill to see her there in the room, among his books and his pipes. It made him a little sick, too, in view of tomorrow and the thousand-odd to- morrows when she would not be there.
 i've kept you up shamefully," she said at last, "and you get up so early. I shall write you note from the hos pital, delivering a little lecture on ex- travagance-because how can l now, with this joy shining on me: And about how to keep Katie in order about your socks, and all sorts of things. And-and now, good night"
 She had moved to the door, and he her, stooping little to pass under the low chandelier. "Good night" said Sidney.