tly out of the shadow, in which I
had not noticed her.

She had a white, drawn face, and she watched Fenwick Major as a mother
watches a sick child that is going to be taken from her up at the
hospital.

"I wanted to see you, old chap, before I went--you know. It's a long way
to go, and there's no use in hanging back even if I could. But the
little wife says she knows the road, and that I won't find it dark. She
can't read much, the little wife--education neglected and all that.
Precious lot I made of mine, medals and all! But she's a trump. She
made a man of me. Worked for me, nursed me. Yes, you did, Sis, and I
_shall_ say it. It won't hurt me to say it. Nothing will hurt me now,
Sis."

"James, do not excite yourself!" said the little wife just then.

I had forgotten his name was James. He was only Fenwick Major to me.

"Now, little wife," he said, "let me tell Chirnside how I've been a bad
fellow, but the Little 'Un pulled me through. It was the best day's work
I ever did when I married Sis!"

"James!" she said again, warningly.

"Look here, Chirnside," Fenwick went on, "the Little 'Un can't read;
but, do you know, she sleeps with my old mother's Bible under her
pillow. I can't read either, though you would hardly know it. I lost my
sight the year I married (my own fault, of course), and I've been no
better than a block ever since. I want you to read me a bit out of the
old Book."

"Why didn't you send for a minister, Fenwick?" I said. "He could talk to
you better than I can."

"Don't want anybody to speak to me. Little 'Un has done all that. But I
want you to read. And, see here, Chirnside, I was a brute beast to you
once--quarrelled with you years ago--"

"Don't think of that, Fenwick Major!" I said. "That's all right!"

"Well, I won't," he said; "for what's the use? But Little 'Un said,
'Don't let the sun go down upon your wrath.' 'And no more I will, Little
'Un,' says I. So I sent a boy after you, old man."

Now, you fellows, don't laugh; but there and then I read three or four
chapters of the Bible--out of Fenwick's mother's Bible--the one she
handed in at the carriage window that morning he and I set off for
college. I actually did and this is the Bible.

[_Bentley and Tad Anderson do not laugh_.

When I had finished, I said--"Fenwick, I'm awfully sorry, but fact is--I
can't pray."

"Never mind about that, old man!" said he; "Little 'Un can pray!"

And Little 'Un did pray; and I tell you wh