"DEAR MISS BERTRAM:

"Having heard from you that one of
my men was a protege of yours, I take the
opportunity of saying a word for the poor
young fellow. He has been an exemplary
character since he came into the regiment, and
has, I hear, been a general favorite from his
extreme good nature, in spite of being a religious
lad. His influence was felt by all his
comrades who came in contact with him, and
I feel we have lost a smart and promising soldier.
The sister in the hospital tells me she is
writing particulars of his death. My sergeant
is very much cut up over it.

"With kind regards,

"Believe me, yours truly,

"W.A. ALDRIDGE--Major."

"And that's all," said Dudley, mournfully; "why, I can't believe Rob is
dead--we never knew he was ill."

Roy took up the letter, and read through Rob's again. Then he looked
across the blue ocean in front of him.

"Just read me that bit of the nurse's letter of the fight, Dudley. Can't
you think of him marching up to the enemy?"

Dudley read the desired bit, and then with a deep drawn breath Roy said:

"He acted out the song of the drummer boys, didn't he? He marched on to
meet his death like they did. I wonder how it felt. Could you have put
yourself in front of the sergeant, Dudley?"

"If you had been the sergeant, I could," was the prompt reply.

"But the sergeant hadn't been kind to him. Oh, Rob, Rob."

"Don't cry so, old chap, you'll make yourself ill. He's happy now.
Don't you think we'd better be going in?"

But Roy would not leave the beach till the tea bell sounded, and then he
crept in with such a white, weary face that kind Mrs. Hawthorn put him
straight to bed, and stayed with him listening to his trouble till tired
out and exhausted he fell asleep. When Dudley came to bed he found him
clutching the letters tight in one hand, and muttering in his sleep,
"God first, the Queen next, and then Master Roy!"

Once in the night he was roused by Roy's grasping hold of his
bedclothes.

"Dudley, are you asleep?"

"No," was the sleepy answer, "aren't you well?"

"Yes, but I can't sleep. Tell me, was it my fault? Did I send Rob to his
death? I wanted him to go. Did I make him go?"

"Of course you didn't," and Dudley now was wide-awake. "He wanted to go
first, and you didn't like it, don't you remember?"

"Yes, I think he liked going; but if he hadn't heard that song perhaps
he would never have gone, he wo