brother. He had no very clear idea as to localities and distances, and
he had read so many marvelous war stories that all things seemed
possible in its atmosphere. But reality and romance are wide enough
apart.

Davie's military experience was a very dull and weary one. He grew
poorer and poorer, lost heart and hope, and could only find comfort for
all his sacrifices in the thought that "at least he had spared poor
Sandy."

Neither was his home-coming what he had pictured it in many a reverie.
There was no wife to meet him--she had been three months in the grave
when he got back to New York--and going to his daughter-in-law's home
was not--well, it was not like going to his own house.

Sallie was not cross or cruel, and she was grateful to Davie, but she
did not _love_ the old man.

He soon found that the attempt to take up again his trade was hopeless.
He had grown very old with three years' exposure and hard duty. Other
men could do twice the work he could, and do it better. He must step out
from the ranks of skilled mechanics and take such humble positions as
his failing strength permitted him to fill.

Sandy objected strongly to this at first. "He could work for both," he
said, "and he thought father had deserved his rest."

But Davie shook his head--"he must earn his own loaf, and he must earn
it now, just as he could. Any honest way was honorable enough." He was
still cheerful and hopeful, but it was noticeable that he never spoke of