sessed her body and mind. She couldn't get away from it. She didn't want to get away from it. She wanted to rehearse every detail that had led up to Dr. Booth's thrilling tribute to her "And I never danced with a woman before." And she did rehearse them, over and over again.
The next morning it was all excitement in the Park household, because of a telegram that Katherine Park had been called to receive over the telephone, while she and her father, and Reba, and two or three other early-risers were seated at the breakfast-table about nine o'clock.
Reba thought she had never seen Katherine's face quite so shining as when she returned from the telephone.
"It's come, people," she announced quietly from the door.
Reba saw Mr. Park's face flush suddenly as he abruptly glanced up over the rim of his reading-glasses, which he had put on, before attacking the pretty pile of unhulled strawberries on the plate before him.
"What's come?" he demanded impatiently, as if he very well knew.
"Marching orders, Daddy," replied Katherine, and went over to him immediately, perched herself on the arm of his chair, and began rumpling up his hair. "Oh, do be a little glad," she went on coaxingly, for Mr. Park sat impassive beneath her playful caresses, devoting his attention undividedly to the immediate business before him of strawberries and powdered sugar. "Do be a little happy with me," she rubbed her cheek against his baldish head. "I'm not going into the trenches, silly man."
