part of the house, and, with
her two daughters, risk infection, and nurse us back to health. I could
not see then, but I can now, what patient devotion was given to us. Of
course I could not see it, for I was a happy, thoughtless boy, living my
golden days, when to breathe and move was a genuine pleasure, and the
clouds and troubles that shut off a bit of life's sunshine only made the
light the brighter when it came again!

Ah! it's a grand thing to be a boy, with all your life before you, and
if any young sceptic who reads these words, and does not skip them
because he thinks they are prosy preaching, doubts what I say, let him
wait. It is the simple truth, and I am satisfied, for I know that he
will alter his tune later on.

In spite, then, of the many troubles I had to go through, with the
weariness of much of the learning, it was a delightful life I led, and
though a little dumpy at leaving home after the holidays, I had
forgotten my low spirits long before I got back to the Doctor's, and was
looking forward longingly to seeing old faces, wondering what the new
ones would be like, and eager to renew my friendly relations with Tom
Mercer, Lomax, Bob Hopley, and Cook, and to give them the little
presents I was taking back.

These were mere trifles, but they went a long way with the recipients.
Tom Mercer declared that the blade of the knife I gave him was the best
bit of steel he ever saw. It wasn't: for, unless the edge was
constantly renewed, there never was such a knife to cut.

Lomax's gift was more satisfactory, for my uncle got it for me with a
grim smile, as he thought, I know, of his old soldiering days. It was a
quarter of a pound of very choice Virginia tobacco, and it delighted the
old sergeant so, that I thought he would have hugged me. I don't know
how long that lasted, but I am sure he hoarded some of it up for nearly
a year, and he would call my attention to its "glorious scent," as he
called it, though to me it was very nasty indeed.

Bob Hopley's present was a red and orange silk kerchief, which he wore
proudly on Sundays, and Cook's was in a small box prepared by my
mother--a cap with wonderful flowers and ribbons, which obtained for Tom
Mercer and me endless little supper snacks as tokens of the woman's
delight and gratitude.

So, as time sped on, I had grown so accustomed to the life at "Old
Browne's," that I felt little objection, as I have said, to returning
after the Christmas holi