hink_ they would! Why they do, Daisy, by hundreds and hundreds. What
then? A soldier's life isn't his own; and if he has to give it up in a
hospital instead of on the field, why it's good for some other fellow."

So this it was, not to belong to oneself! Daisy looked on the soldier
before her who had run, or would run, such risks, very tenderly; but
nevertheless the child was thinking her own thoughts all the while. The
Captain saw both things.

"What is the 'hard work' they have to do?" she asked presently.

"Daisy, you wouldn't like to see it."

"Why, sir?"

"Poor fellows digging and making walls of sand or sods to shelter them
from fire--when every now and then comes a shot from the enemy's
batteries, ploughs up their work, and knocks over some poor rascal who
never gets up again. That's one kind of hard work."

Daisy's face was intent in its interest; but she only said, "Please go
on."

"Do you like to hear it?"

"Yes, I like to know about it."

"I wonder what Mrs. Randolph would say to me?"

"Please go on, Capt. Drummond!"

"I don't know about that. However, Daisy, work in the trenches is not
the hardest thing--nor living wet through or frozen half through--nor
going half fed--About the hardest thing I know, is in a hurried retreat
to be obliged to leave sick and wounded friends and poor fellows to fall
into the hands of the enemy. That's hard."

"Isn't it hard to fight a battle?"

"You would not like to march up to the fire of the enemy's guns, and see
your friends falling right and left of you--struck down?"

"Would you?" said Daisy.

"Would I what?"

"Don't _you_ think it is hard, to do that?"

"Not just at the time, Daisy. It is a little tough afterwards, when one
comes to think about it. It is hard to see fellows suffer too, that one
cannot help."

Daisy hardly knew what to think of Capt. Drummond. His handsome pleasant
face looked not less gentle than usual, and _did_ look somewhat more
sober. Daisy concluded it must be something about a soldier's life that
she could not understand, all this coolness with which he spoke of
dreadful things. A deep sigh was the testimony of the different feelings
of her little breast. Capt. Drummond looked up at her.

"Daisy, women are not called to be soldiers."

Daisy passed that.

"Have you told me all you can tell me, Capt. Drummond?"

"I should not like to tell you all I could tell you."

"Why? Please do! I want to know all about soldiers."