"The Major's glasses, if you please, Miss Lucy," said Sergeant Cameron, pausing in the doorway with a bow. Lucy, who had run down-stairs on hearing the bell, smiled a good-morning to the tall, soldierly figure that blocked the sunlit entrance, and went into Major Gordon's study for the forgotten glasses.

"I was to tell Mrs. Gordon for the Major," Sergeant Cameron added when Lucy returned to the door, "that the guests expected to-day will come over on the twelve o'clock boat. The Major had a telephone message at his office, from the city."

"Oh, all right, Sergeant. I'll tell Mother," said Lucy, whereupon the non-commissioned officer turned smartly on his heel and made off in the direction of the Headquarters Building.

It was a beautiful July morning on Governor's Island, and beyond the tree-dotted lawns between the rows of officers' quarters, the parade ground was alive with marching men;—companies of Infantry which had drilled there for hours, a little part of the mammoth war activity that pervaded the post, the headquarters of the Army's Eastern Department. A faint breeze blew from across New York Harbor, fluttering the flag on the ramparts, but the air was very hot.

Lucy ran up-stairs again to her room and dropped down in front of her mirror to tie the ribbon at the back of her smoothly brushed hair, while she called out to the maid who was mounting the stairs after her, "Oh, Elizabeth, Father just sent word that the Leslies will be here for lunch,—on the twelve o'clock boat."

"Yes, Miss Lucy," answered Elizabeth's pleasant, guttural voice. "You tell your mother, will you?"

"Oh, yes, I'm going right away."

Lucy gave a last tug at the ribbon, a doubtful glance at her mop of fair hair, which with the best of efforts never stayed smooth very long, and rose to her feet. She was not tall for fourteen years, and her dresses were still short, but since her last birthday she had begun to take a little more pains with her appearance, as was shown just now by her returning to tidy up again after feeding the squirrels. The face reflected in the glass was a very attractive one, with its frank, bright hazel eyes and lips ever ready to smile. But Lucy never spent much time in wondering whether she looked "nice" or not. There was more than that to do just now on Governor's Island.

She ran down-stairs two steps at a time and, shooing out an inquiring squirrel which was coming in by the screen door William had left open, went out on the piazza. On the steps sat a curly-headed five-year-old boy, the baby of the Gordon family.

"Come on, William! Come with me?" asked Lucy, holding out a hand to the little boy, who jumped off the steps and trotted along beside her.

"Where you going, Lucy?" he inquired as they followed the brick walk along the line of quarters called "General's Row," because the General's house heads it, toward the path crossing over to the other officers' line or "Colonel's Row."

"Over to see Mother about something," said Lucy, continuing her way around the foot of Colonel's Row to where, after five minutes' walk, the water of the harbor gleamed through the trees and the Officers' Club showed by the tennis courts at the end of the parade.

In one of the second floor rooms of the big, yellow brick building the Red Cross had its headquarters, and here Lucy and William were bound as they entered the wide archway and followed the stairs leading to the ballroom and upper floor. A buzz of ladies' voices came from the doorway, beyond which twenty or thirty officers' wives and daughters were hard at work over tables piled with gauze and muslin. Mrs. Gordon looked up from folding a long three-yard roll and smiled a welcome as Lucy entered with William close behind.

"Are you looking for me, daughter?" she asked, while Julia Houston, Lucy's best friend on the post, ran over, scissors in hand, to say:

"Do stay, Lucy, won't you, and we can work together."

"I'm afraid I can't this morning, Julia. I came only to tell Mother about the Leslies."

"When are they coming? Did Father hear from them?" asked Mrs. Gordon, pausing in her work.

"Yes, he sent word we were to expect them on the noon boat, and, oh, Mother, what do you suppose Marian will be like?" demanded Lucy, giving her mother's arm a squeeze in her eager curiosity.

"You'll know before long, dear, and no doubt you'll like her very much," said Mrs. Gordon, speaking without any great conviction in her voice, as she went on with her folding.

"Is your cousin going to stay with you all summer?" asked Julia, who had taken yards of selvage cuttings from about her shoulders, and was showing William how to wind them into neat little balls.

"Yes, Marian is going to stay until her father comes back from California. Cousin Henry has to look after his lumber camps out there. The Government wants his wood for ships, so he has to leave in a hurry."

"Haven't you ever seen her, Lucy? Don't you know what she's like?" asked Julia curiously, tossing back her dark braids, as she looked up from William's laborious winding.

"Oh, yes, I saw her once about three years ago, when we were both twelve. She has always been delicate, and can't do a great deal, though Father says she is much better now. But she is awfully pretty," Lucy added, with a sudden enthusiasm her first words had lacked. "I think she'll like it here, don't you, Julia?"

"Of course," said Julia, who was sure any one would like army life.

"Come, Lucy, we had better go. We won't have more than time to meet the boat," said Mrs. Gordon, putting away her work. "Will you tie up the rest of these rolls, Mrs. Andrews?" she asked of the lady beside her, who agreed with a smile and added with a glance at Lucy:

"You'd better bring your cousin to parade to-morrow afternoon, Lucy. The whole regiment is to march." Mrs. Andrews was the wife of the Colonel of the island's Infantry regiment.

"Oh, I will, Mrs. Andrews," said Lucy, leaning down to free William from the yards of strips he had got wound about his arms and hands in the course of his work.

"William—why do you always get so tied up with everything? Come, hurry! Mother's waiting. Good-bye, Julia."

Once outside the club, Mrs. Gordon said to her daughter, "We have fifteen minutes, so there's no need to walk fast in this heat. We can keep under the trees by the edge of the parade as far as the top of the hill."

Lucy was hardly listening. Her eyes were bent on the ground but suddenly she raised them to her mother and asked eagerly, "How do you honestly think we'll get along with Marian, Mother? I can't help wondering, because she's been so used to everything she wants. Perhaps she'll hate it here, and won't stay."

"Don't borrow trouble, dear," advised Mrs. Gordon, raising her parasol as they left the shade to cross the wide grassy space from Colonel's to General's Row. "Cousin Henry is so good himself, I am sure his little girl must have a great deal that is nice about her, and if she is a little selfish and trying, remember she has been ill a long time. Cousin Henry has been a good friend to you children; you know he got Bob his appointment to West Point, and Father is devoted to him. We are only too glad to do a little for him now in return."

They had reached the General's house at the head of the little slope leading to the dock, and New York Harbor, gleaming in the morning sunlight, lay below them.

"There's the boat, just coming in," said Lucy, starting down the hill as the army ferry General Hancock drew slowly inshore, while a soldier on the dock let down the chains that held the gangway.

There were few passengers at this hour, most of the hundreds having government business coming earlier in the day, and only half a dozen people from the officers' cabin stepped ashore where Lucy and her mother and William stood waiting. The last to land was a tall, thin gentleman in a cool-looking pongee suit, with one arm around the shoulders of a slender girl about Lucy's size and dressed all in white.

"There they are, Mother. Hello, Cousin Henry! Hello, Marian!" cried Lucy, all her doubts forgotten at sight of Mr. Leslie's cheerful smile and Marian's pretty face.

Mrs. Gordon made haste to give them a cordial welcome, and as she bent to kiss Marian she asked hopefully, "You'll like it here with us, won't you, dear? We're so glad to have you."

Marian gave a faint little smile as she answered, "Yes, Cousin Sally," and held out her hand to Lucy, while Mr. Leslie exclaimed with the friendly heartiness that made everybody like him:

"Why, Sally, Lucy, William! I never was so glad to see any one in my life! I wish I could stay here with Marian. This post must be a great place to see things, these days, and if I'm not mistaken, here's the Major himself coming to meet us."

He pointed toward the slope of the hill, down which a tall figure in summer olive-drab service uniform was swinging at a rapid walk.

"Why, so it is Father," said Lucy. "He didn't expect to be able to leave Headquarters in time to come, but he's managed it somehow."

Major Gordon, acting chief quartermaster of the post, had, since the declaration of war, had so much work to do that his leisure moments were exceedingly scarce, and his spare, bronzed face wore a look of fatigue. But he was well used to long and hard service, and his voice sounded hearty and cheerful as he greeted his cousin and looked with kindly questioning into Marian's face, with its pale-rose-leaf cheeks, wide violet eyes, and somewhat tremulous lips which looked as though pouting were not altogether a forgotten art to them.

"Well, little Marian, we're going to make an army girl of you before we get through—make you hate to leave us," he promised, giving a gentle pull to one of Marian's curls, which, tied with a ribbon behind her neck in a lovely mass of gold, Lucy had been admiring in silence while the others exchanged their greetings.

Major Gordon led the Way on up the little slope with Mrs. Gordon and Mr. Leslie, leaving the children to follow, which they did very quietly, as Marian did not volunteer any remarks, and Lucy did not feel like beginning to ask questions yet. William, running along beside his sister, fixed a wide-eyed stare on his new cousin which made Lucy want to laugh as she began pointing out places of interest on the post, when they had reached the top of the slope.

"This is General's Row, Marian, where we live, and across the grass there is Colonel's Row, that other line of houses. All the officers on the General's staff live on this side of the island, and beyond the parade you can see the officers' quarters of the Infantry regiment stationed here. Those big sheds, way over beyond the houses, have just been put up for the recruits there is no room for. That big grassy stretch is the parade. The men have gone in to dinner now, but you'll see them drilling again this afternoon. They are all working terribly hard getting the new men into shape before they get orders for the front."

Lucy stopped, feeling she had never made such a long speech in her life, as Marian did not encourage her by asking any questions, but merely said, after a second's pause, "Yes, I suppose so," with a glance around her which Lucy felt sure was more one of politeness than real interest.

In another minute they had reached the Gordons' house in the line of square, yellow, pleasant looking officers' quarters, and entered the screened-in piazza. Mr. Leslie stopped in the doorway to poke his cane in the direction of an inquiring squirrel which was frisking about his feet with all the impudent tameness of a privileged pet.

"Isn't he a cunning little fellow, Marian?" he asked his daughter, who had come up and slipped her arm through his, with a little more life in her face as she returned her father's smile.

"Yes, he is," she nodded, laughing faintly, as the squirrel ran over her white shoe, leaving dusty little tracks across the toe.

"Luncheon is ready," announced Mrs. Gordon, coming out of the house. "We have it at half-past twelve on account of James. He has to get back so early to the office."

In spite of the warm day every one came in and sat down to eat very willingly, though Lucy watched Marian, wondering how their somewhat simplified war-time fare would please her pampered taste. Evidently it was not very successful, for Marian hardly touched anything, and answered Mrs. Gordon's anxious inquiries by saying politely that she was not very hungry to-day. Mrs. Gordon was not at all satisfied to see her little guest make her lunch from a few string beans and half a dozen strawberries when her delicate cheeks and thin, little hands showed her decided need of nourishment, but she said nothing more for the present. Mr. Leslie, whose management of his ailing, motherless little daughter consisted in either coaxing her to obey him or letting her do what she liked, added a mild suggestion that she drink the glass of milk Mrs. Gordon provided, but did not gain his point. William drank the milk afterward, on top of a hearty meal.

After lunch Major Gordon took Mr. Leslie for a short tour of the post, which was to end at his office, from which Mr. Leslie would return to the house. Mrs. Gordon persuaded Marian to come up-stairs and lie down until her father's return, so as not to be too tired on her first day at Governor's Island. Marian was willing enough to rest for a while, as she was in the habit of doing. Lucy closed the door of the darkened room, from which Marian could hear the sharp commands of the company captains, once more drilling their men on the parade, and ran down-stairs, secretly wondering how any one could want to go to sleep at this hour on a beautiful day, at a new army post she had had no chance to explore.

Through the doorway she caught sight of Julia Houston running across the grass with black braids flying, and went swiftly out to meet her.

"Did they come?" were Julia's first words, and Lucy plunged into an account of the new cousins, which, however, grew pretty meagre and evasive so far as Marian was concerned.

"Of course I don't really know her yet, though, Julia," she explained for her lack of enthusiasm. "She's lying down now, but you will see her later."

"Oh, poor little thing,—she's still ill, then?" asked warm-hearted Julia, ready to make allowances.

"Yes, I don't know just how much," said Lucy doubtfully.

"Well, listen to me a minute, Lucy." Julia took her friend's arm and drew her down on the steps of the Gordon house. "What I really came to ask you about was this." Her voice dropped a little. "Have you heard your father say anything about the Twenty-Eighth sailing for France this week, or that those drills they keep at every second of the day are their last on this side? Of course your father would know, when he has charge of the supplies,—and I'm sure it's so," ended Julia, her eyes bright and earnest.

"Oh, Julia, you know how Father is about secrets,—especially lately. I wouldn't know one thing if everybody on the post were leaving to-night," said Lucy, her lips wavering to a smile, though her face was thoughtful. "How I wish I knew, though," she added, looking off toward the moving lines of men, dust-brown against the green. "Where did you hear it, anyway?"

"I didn't hear it, I just guessed it, because the Infantry officers are so queer and silent now, when you ask them questions. Mr. Alling was at our house last night, and he would hardly speak of the latest Infantry orders, and when they don't know what to expect themselves they talk and surmise, about it as much as anybody. Besides, they are working so terribly hard,—in the regiment, I mean, not among the recruits. And hasn't your father been rushed to death, lately, without giving any particular reason?"

Lucy was silent, pondering, her father's tired face before her eyes. "I don't know, Julia," she said at last. "I wish we did. I'll ask Father to tell me,—wouldn't any secret be safe with us? But he won't."

Julia got up, staring over the parade with frowning brows. The mysterious secrecy of these first sailings of American troops for the far-off battle front, lest the watchful submarines learn more accurate news of their coming than they already picked up by unknown means, was to the eager, loyal children of the post a very thrilling problem of uncertainty. Twice already had a regiment, newly arrived at the island for an uncertain stay, slipped away in the darkness or the dawn to its transports, and each time, thanks to the silent tongues and the battle-ships waiting to convoy them, they had reached the other side in safety. And now was the home regiment to follow?

"I suppose we might just as well stop racking our brains," Julia said at last, putting aside her perplexed thoughts with her usual impulsiveness. "Come to the Red Cross to-morrow morning, Lucy? We can do that much, anyhow."

"Yes, I'll come," responded Lucy, still thoughtful. Then she added with sudden earnestness, "But I'm not going to let the Twenty-Eighth disappear as the others did! If that regiment sails this week, Julia, I'm going to be there to see it off."