appened upon this definition of "a
hero," given by one of the characters in the story under his eyes: "One
who, in a noble work or enterprise, does more than his duty."

Junior looked up disappointed. "Is _that_ the meaning of hero?" he said,
intensely chagrined.

"That is one way of stating it. I doubt, myself, if we can do more than
our duty. What do you think, Mrs. Briggs?" asked the young woman. She
esteemed the honest couple for their sterling worth and sense, and liked
to draw them out.

"A person ken ondertake more, I 'spose. Ef they don't carry it through,
it's a sign 'twas meant fur them to go jest that fur, an' no further.
'Twon't do fur us to be skeery 'bout layin' holt of the handle the Good
Lord puts nighest to us, fur fear it's too big a thing fur us to manage.
That's what my husband says. An' if ever a man lived up to it, he does."

Top, Junior, looked sober and mortified. The heroism of common life does
not commend itself to the youthful imagination. When his lesson was
finished it was time for him to go to bed. "Wake me when father comes
in!" was the formula without which he never closed his eyes.

His mother never failed to do it, but he wanted to make sure of it. She
put on a lump of coal, just enough to keep the fire "in," and sat down
to the weekly mending. At eleven-forty, she would open the draughts and
cook the sausages ready-laid in the pan on the table. Top, Senior, liked
"something hot and hearty," after his midnight run, and this dispatched,
smoked the nightcap pipe of peace, Junior, rolled in a shawl, on his
knee. The wife's face and heart were calm with thankful content as the
hours moved on. She was rosy and plump, with pleasant blue eyes and
brown hair, a wholesome presence at the hearthstone, in her gown of
clean chocolate calico with her linen collar and scarlet cravat. Top,
Senior, had noticed and praised the new red ribbon. He comprehended that
it was put on to please him and Junior, both of whom liked to see
"Mother fixed up." In this life, they were her all, and she accounted
that life full and rich.

As she served, she heard the slow patter of February rain on the shelf
outside of the window, where her flowers stood in summer. The great city
was sinking into such half-sleep as it took between midnight and dawn;
the shriek and rush of incoming and outgoing trains grew less frequent.
She did not fret over the disagreeable weather. Top, Senior, had often
said that such made home