see children suffer. As for men, if it is the will of God, they must bear
it, but it is awful for children. I have had eighteen of them under my
charge through the siege, and to see them getting thinner and weaker,
every day, till the bones look as if they would come through the skin,
and their eyes get bigger and bigger, and their voices weaker, is awful.
At last I could stand it no longer, and I have come out to fetch some
food for them."

"To fetch food!" Walter repeated. "Do you mean to say you are thinking of
going back again?"

"That I am," John said. "I am going to take some food in to them. You
will help me, won't you, Walter? It isn't for the men that fight, but for
little children, who know nothing about King James, or King William, or
the Protestants, or the Catholics, but who are just God's creatures, and
are dying of hunger. No one could grudge food to infants like these."

"I will help you, of course, John," Walter said, "if I can; but now, tell
me all about it."

John then gave an account of all he had been doing throughout the siege.

"And now what have you been doing, Walter? Fighting?"

"No. I have not been doing any fighting, except that, once or twice, I
was out with the troop, when they had a skirmish with your horsemen, but
I kept in the rear. I hope, ere long, my father will let me enter, but he
is waiting to see what comes of it. No. I have been idle enough. Well, of
course, I know all the officers in the cavalry now, and pretty nearly all
the officers in the camp, and then, with these constant skirmishes and