orm.

"Boys! Oh, boys! There's poor Jack Morrison's wife and the little lad he
sent his love to!"

The crowd hushed its gay clamor and every head turned towards the
woman in black and the chubby child. They stood quite alone, silent,
white-faced, weary. Jack Morrison was the only one who had not returned
with the brave little band of soldiers who had set forth so valiantly
months before.

"I saw him fall," said Billy hoarsely; "fall, shot in a dozen places.
For a moment, boys, I think I failed to bugle. I dropped on my knees and
raised his poor face out of the dust. 'Billy,' he said, 'Billy, when
you get home, give my love to my wife and little Buddie.' Then he just
seemed to sink into a heap, and I sprang up to 'commands.' Boys, through
the rest of that fight I could see nothing but Mrs. Morrison's white
face, hear nothing but her sobs. Oh, the misery of it all! I seemed to
grow into an old man all at once. I could see myself coming home, and
all of us here cheering--all but Jack Morrison."

No one spoke. A vast silence fell, and the cheering ceased. Then Billy
walked quietly through the crowd, and standing beside the white-faced
widow, picked up the child in his strong young arms. He was not used
to babies, and looked awkward and stiff and terribly conscious. Then
he pulled himself together.

"I have a message for you, Mrs. Morrison, and for this little chap here.
I'll come and see you to-morrow, if I may, when all this fuss and
flag-waving is over."

The woman looked blankly at him, with eyes that seemed watching for
something--something that never came. Billy dared not trust himself
to say another word. He finally set the child down and turned away.

In a few minutes the "procession" was in full swing, Billy and his
father, in one of the carriages, being driven beneath arches and
banners, and handclasped on all sides. Somehow, he got through that
uproarious day smiling, but shy as usual, but when night came he was
tired and utterly undone, and "turned in" early. But sleep would not
come. Then he arose and crept to his little bedroom window, standing
there a long, long time alone in the dark--thinking. How glorious it all
had been!--the glad, loyal faces of his boy friends, the magnificent
welcome home--if only they could have brought Jack Morrison back with
them! Oh! Billy would have given up all the glory, the music, the
cheers, the banners, to get away from the haunting memory of a woman's
white, sufferin