It was a letter from Barry which again brought her head up, and made
her life march once more to a martial tune.
"I have found the work for which I am fitted," he wrote; "you don't
know how good it seems. For so many years I went to my desk like a boy
driven to school. But now--why, I work after hours for the sheer love
of it--and because it seems to bring me nearer to Leila."
This from Barry, the dawdler! And she who had preached was whimpering
about heat and cold, about long hours and hard work--as if these things
matter!
Why, life was a Great Adventure, and she had forgotten!
And now she began to look about her--to find, if she could, some ray to
illumine her workaday world.
She found it in the friendliness and companionship of her office
comrades--good comrades they were--fighting the battle of drudgery
shoulder to shoulder, sharing the fortunes of the road, needing, some
of them, the uplift of her courage, giving some of them more than they
asked.
As Mary grew into their lives, she grew away somewhat from her old
crowd. And if, at times, her gallant fight seemed futile--if at times
she could not still the cry of her heart, it was because she was a
woman, made to be loved, fitted for finer things and truer things than
writing cabalistic signs on a tablet and transcribing them, later, on
the typewriter.
Leila had refused to be dropped from Mary's life. She came, whenever
she could, to walk a part of the way home with her friend, and the two
girls would board a car and ride to the edge of the town, preferring to
tramp along the edges of the Soldiers' Home or through the Park to the
more formal promenade through the city streets.
It was during these little adventures that Mary became conscious of
certain reserves in the younger girl. She was closely confidential,
yet the open frankness of the old days was gone.
Once Mary spoke of it. "You've grown up, all in a minute, Leila," she
said. "You're such a quiet little mouse."
Leila sighed. "There's so much to think about."
Watching her, Mary decided. "It is harder for her than for Barry. He
has his work. But she just waits and longs for him."
In waiting and longing, Little-Lovely Leila grew more mouse-like than
ever. And at last Mary spoke to the General. "She needs a change."
He nodded. "I know it. I am thinking of taking her over in the
spring."