ee how rapidly Grace and my mother changed.
The terribly anxious look died out of their faces, but in both there was
a saddened aspect which grew stronger daily; and it was most marked when
they talked of the perils of the past, and my mother offered up a prayer
that those she loved might not be called upon again to face the perils
of the fight.

Her prayer was heard, for the horrors of war swept farther and farther
away. Others had the task of crushing it out, while we remained to
garrison Nussoor; and the various civil officers toiled hard to restore
order and remove the horrible traces of the war of desperate fights for
life.

It was during these days, when I was busy with Haynes--Captain Haynes
now--trying to work up the draft of new men--who had come to fill up the
gaps made in our troop in action--to something like the form of our old,
that we had a surprise in the coming of Major Lacey, still rather weak,
but who had made a wonderful recovery. He was full of anecdotes of his
narrow escapes during the time he was being nursed back to health by the
two faithful dhoby women, and he gave us a terrible account of the
surprise that day when Barton was slain--for he was killed--the major
saw him fall. But the old officer never referred to the death of his
wife, that was too sacred a subject, and we dared not ask.

It was about two months after that awful night, and the cool season had
come. My mother had had a few friends to dinner, and I was out on the
verandah with the doctor, as he smoked his cigar.

"Humph! so you want to get on active service again, eh?" he said, after
a long chat. "Well, after what you went through, I think you might wait
for a few years."

"You misunderstand me," I said. "I don't want that kind of active
service, but something more to do."

"It'll come," he said; and then he laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" I said.

"At you."

"Why?"

"At the idea of their promoting such a boy as you."

"What? promoted?" I cried.

"Yes; but I oughtn't to have let it out. It was told me as a secret."

"Oh, I am glad," I cried. "But I say, doctor, I can't help being such a
boy."

"Don't try, Gil," he said; "you don't grasp it, but to be a boy, sir, is
the grandest thing in the world. Never be discontented because you have
no moustache. It will come."

"I am not discontented," I said maliciously, "only because we have such
a bad doctor in the troop."

"Bad! Why, what do you me