ldiers--just love 'em," she said.

"The sentiment is an old one with women," said I. "Were it not so,
there would be no soldiers."

"And for that reason you went to war?" she said.

"In part, yes," I answered.

"How I should like to see the woman!" she cried. "How proud she must
be of you!"

"Of me?" I laughed. "The woman? Why, she doesn't exist."

"Then why did you turn soldier?"

"I feared that some day there might be a woman, and when that day came
I wished to be prepared. I thought that the men who fought would be
the men of the future. But I have learned a great deal. They will be
the men of the past in a few months. The memory of a battle's heroes
fades away almost with the smoke. In a little while, to receive our
just recognition we old soldiers will have to parade before the public
with a brass band, and the band will get most attention. Would you
know that Aaron Kallaberger was a hero of Gettysburg if he didn't wear
an army overcoat?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I have heard about it so often. He has told me
a hundred times."

"I suppose you have told a hundred other persons of Aaron's prowess?"
said I.

"No-o-o," she answered.

"And so," said I, "when Perry Thomas finished his oration last night, I
had to catch it up; and if my soldiering is to result in any material
good to me I must keep that oration moving to the end."

"But will you?" she asked.

How I liked the way she put it! It was flattering--subtly so. She
seemed to imply that I was a modest soldier, and if there is a way to
flatter a man it is to call him modest. Modesty is one of the best of
policies. To call a man honest is no more than to call him healthy or
handsome. These are attributes of nearly everyone at some time in his
life. But to do a great deed or a good deed, and to rejoice that it
has been done and the world is better for it, and not because you did
it and the world knows it, that is different. So often our modesty
consists in using as much effort to walk with hanging head and sloping
shoulders as we should need for a majestic strut.

She called me modest. Yet there I sat in my old khaki uniform. It was
ragged and dirty, and I was proud of it. It was a bit thin for a
chilly autumn day, but in spite of Tim's expostulation I had worn it,
refusing his offers of a warmer garb. I was clinging to my glory.
While I had on that old uniform, I was a soldier. When I laid it
aside, I should become as Aaron K