"Rob, do you remember the third verse of your recessional hymn?"
"I don't know. What was it?"
"'Oh, may Thy soldiers,'" quoted Bess, and Rob took up the line, half under his breath. When he had finished it,—
"Well, what about it?" he asked.
"I was thinking to-night, as you came out singing it, that I wondered what fighting you boys would have to do. Fred has come to his, but the 'victor's crown of gold' will be very hard for him to win, I am afraid."
"Why, cousin Bess?"
"Rob, my boy, suppose all at once you had to just drop right out of all your boy fun and games, couldn't read or study, or even go to walk alone; do you think it would be real easy to always be bright and cheerful, never complain or be cross? It is just by bearing this trouble like a man and a hero that the 'victor's crown' will come to Fred. It will not be a very happy life to live. But we will hope Phil made some mistake. Almost anything would be better than for him to be blind all his life; and I can't see what should bring it on. Did Phil say how he is now?"
"Mr. Allen said he was better, and asked Phil to go to see him before long."
"I hope he will, and you too, Rob," said Bess, and then added, "How well the music went to-night," hoping to turn her cousin's thoughts into a more cheerful line. But it was of no use.
"Fred was just coming into the choir when he was taken ill. The boys all wanted him, for he has a first-rate voice; but I suppose he can't now. We'd been planning for his coming as soon as he got well, and he's only a little shorter than I, so he'd have sat next either Phil or me."