ement of returning to his old regiment and
meeting his comrades--after the process of readjusting himself to the
changed relations made by death, wounds, discharges, resignations and
promotions--after the days had brought a settling back into the
old routine of camp-life, there developed in Shorty's heart growing
homesickness for Maria Klegg.

At least that was what it seemed to him. He did not exactly know what
homesickness was from personal experience, as he had never really had
a home. But he had seen thousands of boys more or less affected by that
obscure but stubborn and dangerous malady, and had noted their symptoms,
which strongly resembled his own.

Somehow, the sun only shone with real brightness and warmth over the
pleasant homes and fertile fields of Posey County, Ind. Somehow, women
had a fairness and sweetness there denied to their sex elsewhere, and
somehow the flower of them all was a buxom maiden of 20 dwelling under
the roof of Deacon Klegg.

Shorty appreciated very properly the dignity and responsibilities of his
two stripes. He was going to be the model Corporal of the regiment, and
give all the rest a copy which they could follow to advantage. Of all
the Corporals he had ever known, Si Klegg had come nearest his ideas as
to what a Corporal should be, but even Si had his limitations. He would
show him some improvements. So shorty bent his mind upon the performance
of everything pertaining to the Corporalcy with promptness and zeal.
He even set to studying the Regulations and Tactics--at least those
paragraphs relating to Corporals and their duties--where heretofore
he had despised "book-soldiering," and relied on quick observation and
"horse sense" to teach him all that was worth knowing. But his stay in
the Deacon's home showed him that they esteemed "book-knowledge" even in
common things as of much value, and he began to have a new respect for
that source of instruction.

Even through the pressure of official duties and responsibilities there
would steal, like the wafting of a sweet song to the ears of the reapers
in a hot field, thoughts of the coolness, the beauty and the peace of
that quiet home on the Wabash, with one flower-faced girl, with white,
soft arms, going about her daily tasks, singing with such blithe
cheeriness that even the birds stopped to listen to a sweeter note than
theirs. Some subtle fragrance from her seemed to be with him wherever
he was, and whatever he might be doing.