ng.

"Excuse me," said John, smiling. "In putting your case, I can't bear
to leave out vital details. Merely professional prejudice. Shortly,
then, you fully sustained your share in a long and arduous campaign;
you won your commission; you were wounded, decorated, and invalided
home."

He stopped short in the brilliant sunshine which now flooded their
path, and looked gravely at Peter.

"Some of us," said John, "have imagination enough to realize, even
without the help of war-correspondents, the scenes of horror through
which you, and scores of other boys, fresh from school, like you, had
to live through. We can picture the long hours on the veldt--on the
march--in captivity--in the hospitals--in the blockhouses--when
soldiers have been sick at heart, wearied to death with physical
suffering, and haunted by ghastly memories of dead comrades."

Peter hurriedly drew his left hand from the pocket where the beloved
tobacco-pouch reposed, and pulled his brown felt hat down over his
eyes, as though the October sunlight hurt them.

"I think at such times, Peter," said John, quietly continuing his walk
by the boy's side, "that you must have longed now and then for your
home; for this peaceful English country, your green English woods, and
the silent hall where your mother waited for you, trembled for you,
prayed for you. I think your heart must have ached then, as so many
men's hearts have ached, to remember the times when you might have
made her happy by a word, or a look, or a smile. And you didn't do it,
Peter--_you didn't do it_."

Peter made a restless movement indicative of surprise and annoyance;
but he was silent still, and John changed his tone, and spoke lightly
and cheerfully.

"Well, then you came home; and your joy of life, of youth, of health
all returned; and you looked forward, naturally, to taking your share
of the pleasures open to other young men of your standing. But you
never meant to forget your mother, as so many careless sons forget
those who have watched and waited for them. Even though you fell in
love, you still thought of her. When you were weary of travel, or
pleasure connected with the outside world, you meant always to return
to her. You liked to think she would still be waiting for you;
faithfully, gratefully waiting, within the sacred precincts of your
childhood's home. And now, when you remember her submission to your
father's wishes in the past, and her single-hearted devotion to
you