"No, sir, but grandfather does, and he told me you were here."
"Did he send you to me?"
"No, sir, but he told me you had fought a great many battles, and I wanted to see you because I am going to be a soldier—when I'm a man, I mean."
"How old are you now?"
"I'm eight, sir; but, you know, I shall be older soon, and perhaps as big as you are."
"Perhaps so," said Hubert, with a smile; "and what's your name?"
"Frank, sir—Frank Lyons—the same as father's and grandfather's; but they are not soldiers, you know. I am going to be a soldier." And then, fixing his eyes upon a medal which Hubert wore upon his breast, he eagerly asked all about it. Hubert was amused at the little fellow, and answered many an inquiry that he made, and as he was listening to something Hubert was saying, all at once he caught sight of the "torn Bible," and taking it in his hand, he said—
"Is this a Bible, sir? Oh, how it's torn! Did It get torn like this in the battles?"
"No, child; but," pointing to the hole in the cover, "it got that in the last battle I was in."
Frank looked for some time at the hole the bullet had made; then looking up into Hubert's face, he said, thoughtfully—