es from this out, but we'll stand by each other till
the world cracks."

After Dick had gone upstairs with his father, Barney and his mother
sat together talking over the doings of the day after their invariable
custom.

"He is looking thin, I am thinking," said the mother.

"Oh, he's right enough. A few days after the reaper and a few meals out
of your kitchen, mother, and he will be as fit as ever."

"That was a fine work of yours with the doctor." The indifferent tone
did not deceive her son for a moment.

"Oh, pshaw, that was nothing. At least it seemed nothing then. There
were things to be done, blood to be stopped, skin to be sewed up, and I
just did what I could." The mother nodded slightly.

"You did no more than you ought, and that great Tom Magee might be doing
something better than lying on his back on the floor like a baby."

"He couldn't help himself, mother. That's the way it struck him. But,
man, it was fine to see the doctor, so quick and so clever, and never a
slip or a stop." He paused abruptly and stood upright looking far away
for some moments. "Yes, fine! Splendid!" he continued as in a dream.
"And he said I had the fingers and the nerve for a surgeon. That's it. I
see now--mother, I'm going to be a doctor."

His mother stood and faced him. "A doctor? You?"

The sharp tone recalled her son.

"Yes, me. Why not?"

"And Richard?"

Her son understood her perfectly. His mind went back to a morning long
ago when his mother, putting his younger brother's hand in his as
they set forth to school for the first time, said, "Take care of your
brother, Bernard. I give him into your charge." That very day and many
a day after he had stood by his brother, had fought for him, had pulled
him out of scraps into which the younger lad's fiery temper and reckless
spirit were frequently plunging him, but never once had he consciously
failed in the trust imposed on him. And as Dick developed exceptional
brilliance in his school work, together they planned for him, the mother
and the older brother, the mother painfully making and saving, the
brother accepting as his part the life of plodding obscurity in order
that the younger boy might have his full chance of what school and
college could do for him. True to the best traditions of her race, the
mother had fondly dreamed of a day when she should hear from her son's
lips the word of life. With never a thought of the sacrifice she was
demanding, she had drawn