jolt. Is that who the sweaters are for, mom?"

"Yes, I thought I might as well," said Mrs. Potter. She glanced
at the Colonel. He was looking at his cigar. Mr. Leffingwell
was staring at the ceiling. She glanced at Mr. Potter. His
right eyelid quivered. "Yes," said Mrs. Potter, "Colonel Bright
thought they might like to have them." She smiled at Porky and
Beany--strange, soft, tender, sad, wonderful smile.

"Come, see if they are going to fit," she said.

Mr. Leffingwell blew his nose.

All the while that the preparations for the boys' journey went
swiftly on, time, pain-filled and gloomy, dragged itself away in
the two hospital rooms where the Wolf and the Weasel lay wounded.
By carefully questioning his nurse, the Wolf, who was not so
badly hurt as it was at first thought, found out that the Weasel
was his next door neighbor. That question settled, the Wolf
settled himself to the task of getting well. In a few days to
the amazement of those attending him, he was able to sit up.
They commenced leaving him alone for an hour or so at a time.
Two days more, wrapped in a heavy bathrobe, he was lifted into a
reclining chair, and allowed to look out of the window. How
could the nurse guess that the moment she left, her helpless
patient rose to his feet and falteringly at first, moved here and
there about the room, stopping every moment or two to rest? When
she returned she found him quietly seated, resting, as she had
left him. He did indeed look tired and pale, so she hurried him
back to bed. The next day and the next this was repeated. Then