roper, there was old Bart Ochsner ringing the bell for dinner
at the Junction eating house. Well, for the love of Mike! Wouldn't that
make you laugh. Ringing that bell, just like always, as if nothing had
happened in the last year! Buzz leaned against the window, to see. There
was some commotion in the train and some one spoke his name. Buzz
turned, and there stood Old Man Hatton, and a lot of others, and he
seemed to be making a speech, and kind of crying, though that couldn't
be possible. And his father was there, very clean and shaved and queer.
Buzz caught words about bravery, and Chippewa's pride, and he was fussed
to death, and glad when the train pulled in at the Chippewa station. But
there the commotion was worse than ever. There was a band, playing away
like mad. Buzz's great hands grown very white, were fidgeting at his
uniform buttons, and at the stripe on his sleeve, and the medal on his
breast. They wouldn't let him carry a thing, and when he came out on the
car platform to descend there went up a great sound that was half roar
and half scream. Buzz Werner was the first of Chippewa's men to come
back.

After that it was rather hazy. There was his mother. His sister Minnie,
too. He even saw the Kearney girl, with her loose red mouth, and her
silly eyes, and she was as a strange woman to him. He was in Hatton's
glittering automobile, being driven down Grand Avenue. There were
speeches, and a dinner, and, later, when he was allowed to go home,
rather white, a steady stream of people pouring in and out of the house
all day. That night, when he limped up the stairs to his hot little room
under the roof he was dazed, spent, and not so very happy.

Next morning, though, he felt more himself, and inclined to joke. And
then there was a talk with old Man Hatton; a talk that left Buzz
somewhat numb, and the family breathless.

Visitors again, all that afternoon.

After supper he carried water for the garden, against his mother's
outraged protests.

"What'll folks think!" she said, "you carryin' water for me?"

Afterward he took his smart visored cap off the hook and limped down
town, his boots and leggings and uniform very spick and span from Ma
Werner's expert brushing and rubbing. She refused to let Buzz touch
them, although he tried to tell her that he had done that job for a
year.

At the corner of Grand and Outagamie, in front of Schroeder's drug
store, stood what was left of the gang, and some new member