his friend.

He came along now with his quick, light step and drew a chair up beside
Reginald's couch. He planned his work so as to be with the invalid as
much as possible, and his constant sympathy and cheer were all that made
the days bearable to him.

"Well, Rege, how goes it?" he asked in tones as tender as a woman's.

Reginald looked up at him with envious eyes. There was such a freshness
about this strong young life, as if every moment were a separate joy.

"I wish I was dead!" he answered moodily.

"Don't dare to wish that!" said John quickly, "until you have made the
most of your life."

"The most of my life!" echoed Reginald contemptuously. "That's well put,
John, I must say! What is my life worth to me now? You see what my
father thinks of it. A useless log, as valuable as a piece of waste
paper. I believe it would have pleased him better if I had been killed
outright. He wouldn't have had the humiliation of it always before his
eyes. If it had been any sort of a decent accident, I believe I could
bear it better, but to be knocked over in a football match, like the
precious duffer that I am--bah!"

The concentrated bitterness of the last words made John's heart ache.
"Looking backward, Rege," he said quietly, "will never make a man of
you. It is only a waste of time and vital tissue. But there are lots of
noble lives in spite of limitations. Paul had his thorn in the flesh,
you know, and Milton his blindness. Difficulties are a spur to the best
that is in us."

"Difficulties, John. You never look at them, do you?"

John laughed. "It is not worth while except to see how to surmount
them."

"I wish you could be idle just for an hour," said Reginald peevishly,
"you make me nervous."

John took another stitch in the halter he was mending. "Old Father
Time's spoiling tooth is never still, Rege. I have to work to keep pace
with it."

"I should think you would need a month of loafing to made up for the
sleep you have lost. You're ahead of Napoleon, John, for he only kept
one eye open, but I've never been able to catch you napping once. How
have you stood it, man?"

"Forty winks is a fair allowance sometimes, Rege."

Reginald groaned. "Your pluck is worth a king's ransom, John. I wish I
had it."

John began to whistle softly as he drew his waxed ends in and out.

"I declare, John, I can't fathom you!" and Reginald moved impatiently
upon his couch. "You are invulnerable as Achilles. I never saw a