use I don't feel much disposed. It is rather a tender subject,
Punch."

"There, I always knew there was something. Look here; you and me's
friends and comrades, ain't we?"

"I think so, Punch. I have tried to be."

"So you have. Nobody could have been better. I have lain awake lots of
times and thought about what you did. You haven't minded my saying such
nasty things as I have sometimes?"

"Not I, Punch. Sick people are often irritable."

"Yes," said the boy eagerly, "that's it. I have said lots of things to
you that I didn't mean; but it's when my back's been very bad, and it
seemed to spur me on to be spiteful, and I have been very sorry
sometimes, only I was ashamed to tell you. But you haven't done
anything to be ashamed of?" Pen was silent for a few moments.

"Ashamed? No--yes."

"Well, you can't have been both," said the boy. "Whatcher mean by
that?"

"There have been times, Punch, when I have felt ashamed of what I have
done."

"Why, what have you done? I don't believe it was ever anything bad.
You say what it was. I'll never tell."

"Enlisted for a soldier."

"What?" cried the boy. "Why, that ain't nothing to be ashamed of. What
stuff! Why, that's something to be proud of, specially in our Rifles.
In the other regiments we have got out here the lads are proud of being
in scarlet. Let 'em. But I know better. There isn't one of them who
wouldn't be proud to be in our dark-green, and to shoulder a rifle.
Besides, we have got our bit of scarlet on the collar and cuffs, and
that's quite enough. Why, you are laughing at me! You couldn't be
ashamed of being in our regiment. I know what it was--you ran away from
home?"

"It was no longer home to me, Punch."

"Why, didn't you live there?"

"Yes; but it didn't seem like home any longer. It was like this, Punch.
My father and mother had died."

"Oh," said the boy softly, "that's bad. Very good uns, waren't they?"

Pen bowed his head.

"Then it waren't your home any longer?"

"Yes and no, Punch," said the lad gravely.

"There you go again! Don't aggravate a fellow when he is sick and weak.
I ain't a scholar like you, and when you puts it into me with your `yes
and no' it makes my head ache. It can't be yes and no too."

"Well, Punch," said Pen, smiling, "it was mine by rights, but I was
under age."

"What's under age?"

"Not twenty-one."

"Of course not. You told me months ago that you was only eighteen.
Anybody