last that it was the boy David, in the alcove, where he had asked to be
allowed to stay, promising not to bother Uncle Arthur with his work. For
Uncle Arthur was very busy with his Memorial Day address. At least he
was struggling desperately to be very busy with it, although so far he
had succeeded only in spoiling half a dozen sheets of paper with as many
inadequate introductions.

"For you see, Major," Arthur Thorndyke had explained to the boy, when he
had come tap-tapping on his crutches into his uncle's study that
morning, "this is such very new business to me. I'm having a pretty
hard time trying to think of anything good and fine enough to say to
the men in blue--and gray--and brown, for we have all sorts here, you
know."

It was true that Uncle Arthur was a very boyish-looking uncle; but he
was tall and big, and he had been preaching for a year now, and David
thought that he preached very good sermons indeed. Besides, he had been
in the Spanish War, one of the youngest privates in Uncle Stephen's
company, and he ought to know all about it, even though he had really
been in very few engagements.

"I guess you can do it, Uncle Arthur," said David comfortingly. "And
I'll keep very still in the alcove. I would play somewhere else, only,
you see, it's the only window that looks out over the square, and my
playing is out there."

Uncle Arthur had not taken time to ask him what he meant, but afterward,
when the little droning sound had begun to annoy him, he found out. He
peeped in between the curtains of the alcove, and saw at once what was
out in the square. It was the major's "regiment." To other people the
square might have seemed to be a very quiet place, full of trees and
May sunshine, with a few babies and nurses and placid pedestrians as its
only occupants. But Uncle Arthur perceived at once, from the aspect of
the major, that it was a place of wild carnage, of desperate assault, of
the clash and shock of arms.

The major stood erect, supported by one crutch. The other crutch was
being waved in the air, as by one who orders on a mass of fighting men.
From the major's lips issued the subdued but passionate words:

"Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turned in air
Sabring th' gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All th' world wonder'd:
Plunged in th' batt'ry-smoke
Right through th' line they broke;
Cossack an' Russian
Reeled from th' sabre-stroke