u all about it. Oh, 'ow 'e pray!
Ecoutez! Docteur! you can 'ear 'im now! . . ."

And awhile Doctor Sampson listened, a grim smile lurking around the
corners of his firm mouth, as he leaned against the open door of the ward.

"Praying, Sister?" he ejaculated. "It's the queerest kind of praying
I've ever heard. But is it him--or is it the parrot?"

Two days later he remarked to the O.C. and Kilbride: "I'm glad to be able
to report a decided improvement in that man Hardy's condition. His pulse
is stronger, his appetite is increasing and--he's beginning to grouse.
That old ruffian of a farrier-corporal, McCullough, was right, begad!--he
knew the man better than I did. As a general rule I'm inclined to be
rather sceptical of such drastic experiments, but in certain cases, er--"

"Something of the sort might be beneficial if applied to young Redmond,
too," remarked the O.C., testily. "He's down in the dumps now; though to
give him his due . . . he tries hard not to show it whenever I happen to
be in the hospital. Dudley, my Orderly-room sergeant, is leaving next
month--time-expired--so I thought I was conferring a great favour on the
boy by promising him the step-up--good staff appointment--give him a
chance to recuperate thoroughly. But no!--my young gentleman courteously
declines my munificent offer. Nothing must serve him but he must go back
to me Irish 'ginthleman' and that d----d dissipated scamp of a Yorke."

"It's the spirit of comradeship," remarked Kilbride quietly. "If I might
suggest, Sir, . . . I think it would be better if you do decide to let
him go back there. They pull well together and do good work, those
three."

"'Ullo, Reddy!" called out Constable Hardy, as he directed his wobbly
steps towards the bench on the hospital balcony where George was seated,
"'ow long 'ave you bin up 'ere? Th' O.C. an' Kilbride was round jes'
now. You didn't see 'em, eh?"

"No," answered Redmond listlessly. And thereupon he relapsed into moody
silence.

"Wy, wot's up?" enquired Hardy presently, scanning the other's downcast
countenance. "Wot's th' matter wiv you, son? . . . you don't look
'appy! . . ."

"You bet I'm not, either!" burst out George suddenly. "The Old Man's
offered me Dudley's job, but I don't want a staff job. I want to go back
to Davidsburg. Who cares to be stuck around the Post?"

"Me for one!" retorted the old soldier grinning, "Jes' now, anyway.
Listen, son! Th' Old Man 'e sez