The spectator., 1918-12-03
CHAPTER iIi.

Several years later Captain Mark Wallace descended from a street car and walked up the grounds of very select young ladies boarding choOl in Westchester county, New York, kept by two maiden ladies. Entering the colonial portico, the captain rang the bell and asked to see Miss Howard. Five minutes afterward, having satis- fled the lady principal that he stood in the avunculaf relation to her charge, and was q man of blameleSS life. he met Eleanor in the reception room.
 It was some years since he had seen her. The grimy little waif of the San tiago battlefield had shot up into a slim, long-legged schoolgirl, with brown hair tied back with ribbon, and Il face that already showed the promise of beauty.
 The girl hurried forward as if eX- pecting an embrace, realized Marks intention. and checked herself quickly and held out both hands.
 Dear Uncle Mark" she exclaimed I've been looking forward to you ever since I got your letter telling me that you were coming East"
 Well, it's nice to be appreciated like that" said Mark, laughing.
 "I couldn't quite persuade myself that it was true, and that I should eally see you at last. And you're not in the least like your photograph"
 "Homelier, Eleanor?"
 No, but different. Older-very much older. You must be awfully old quite thirty, I should say"
 Nearly" admitted Mark. wondering whether the long years in the West with the sweltering heat and arduouS service, had really aged him prema' turely Mark had had no influence to se3ure him anything better than a border post He often wondered why he had not gone into civil life, like SC many of his class, and amasSed a com potency in the first booming years of the twentieth century.
 Something in the blood, perhaps, haG held him to the army life, which h6 loved so much in principle and hated so much in practice. He was not far short of thirty; he had nothing but his meager pay; no ties but married sister in Chicago and the girl in the boarding school who filled so great [ part of his thoughts, so disprOportiOn ate a share.
 For until that day he had only seer her once since he picked her up in the jungle, and she had been too young tC retain the memory of the meeting il Major Towards home.
 q expected young man, but Tn just as pleased to see you salC Eleanor. T don't like very young men,"
 Mark received her amends witt amusement, and they sat down side D! side upon the sofa, and were soon deer in conversation. Mark learned al about her school and her friends. Sh, vas very happy there and would re ret not going back at the end of tho holidays. However, Major and Mrs Howard had only placed her there fol a few months while they went on [ visit to the West.
 q always felt that you are really my guardian, even if you did give me up to Major Howard" said Eleanor.
 But I have only lent you" sait Mark. T couldn't very well take care of you when was sent to Texas. Ant 1t has always been understood that yor belong to mel mean, that am you guardian, Eleanor"
 T know" she said. And you write me such splendid letters, with suci good advice in them"
 (Which you don't follow"
 Indeed I do," said the girl. eagerly of date, Uncle Mark"
 Tn what particularT inquired Mark, beginning to feel little like ; prig in the presence of this self-pos sessed young person. It is so easy t assume the task of adviser from a dis cance, but difficult to retain the roll | ace to face.
 "WeH, when you wrote me last yea remember not to be pert and for yard, like modern children. Uncl lark. Pertness comes at seven o fight. One isn't pert at twelve-a east, not in the way you meant. The, all it ill-bred, then"