"Forward, th' Light Brigade!
Was 'ere a man dismay'd?
Not though the soldier knew
Some 'un had blunder'd...."

"God forbid!" murmured the corporal, as the words trailed slowly out
into the air from under Doctor Wendell's hand.

"Theirs not to make reply--
Theirs--not to--reason--why--
Theirs--but--to--do--an'--die----"

The corporal set his teeth. Presently he looked across the bed and met
the eyes of the major's mother. "So far, so good," he said, nodding to
her, as the small hand in his relaxed its hold.

"Talk about sheer pluck!" growled Captain Stephen Thorndyke, in the
waiting-room, where he and Colonel Chester and Cadet Stuart were
marching up and down during the period of suspense.

"It's that 'Charge of the Light Brigade' that floors me," said Stuart.
"If the youngster'd just whimper a little; but to go under whispering,
'Theirs not to make reply----'" He choked, and frankly drew his gray
sleeve across his eyes.

"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's
boy, all right."

There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the
good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and
was rallying bravely.

"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end
successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor
together.

"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur.
"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now,
if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the
pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of
danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short
of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course,
in the little chap's delicate condition. But--we've all his own staunch
courage on our side--and somehow, well--Stuart, I've got to preach
to-morrow. And next week--that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm
going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between
now and then."

That Memorial Day address! How was a distraught young clergyman to
think of material for such an address when he was held captive at the
bedside of a little soldier fighting for his life?

It was the fourth day before anxiety began to lessen its grip; the
fifth, the sixth, before Doctor Wendell would begin to speak
confidently. Through i