the collar on the trooper's shirt. It disclosed a three-inch scar along his neck, just above the shoulder.
"Oh, that's nothing," said Halsey, pulling her hand away and turning up the collar quickly. "That's only a sabre scratch. I got that in a little cavalry tilt. A big brute of a fellow came down on my pal, Billie Jones, and was about to chop his head off with his sabre when I intercepted the blow."
"You brave boy," choked the girl. "What a terrible thing war is." She noted with a little thrill of joy that Halsey still held the hand that had turned down his collar.
"My," cried Halsey, "but it is good to be home again. We are going to miss Uncle Hillery and Aunt Julia though. It leaves you and I all alone at Eaton Manor, Peg."
"Yes," returned the girl shyly.
"What was it that Uncle Hillery wanted to see me about the time I came home, when the guerrillas nearly got me? You said you would tell me when I came home."
