"My object in going to Brighton was to visit some of my poor men who are in hospital there," he answered. "When I realized the pleasure it was to them to see and talk to me I felt more than glad that I had followed the impulse which had prompted me to go to them. Brave, splendid fellows! Even those who were worst injured made light of their wounds! Some, like me, will never draw a sword again, but I heard no word of complaint. Are we out of the town yet, Josephine?"
"Not quite, father; we are passing the mission church. As we go on shall I tell you where we are?"
"Please do. You will have to be eyes to me now, little daughter!"
Captain Basset pressed Josephine's hand closer to his side as he spoke; her heart was full to overflowing. Presently the little girl remarked that they had left the town, and by and by that they were in sight of Vine Cottage.
"And there's Mrs. Rumbelow standing at the garden gate!" she cried; "she's smiling all over her face and waving a pocket-handkerchief. Oh, father, I must take you to see her! She'll love to talk to you about her son!"
A few minutes later they reached the blacksmith's. Several men, including old Dicker, were standing around the forge; they came into the road as the cab appeared in sight, and raised a hearty cheer as it passed by.
"I did not expect this," Captain Basset said, a flush rising to his cheeks. "Who are the people?"
"The blacksmith and a few farm labourers," Mr. Basset answered; "I believe they meet together here every evening to discuss the war."
There was silence after that until the cab turned into the Glen grounds. Under the porch of the house Miss Basset stood waiting in company with May and Donald, a flush on her pretty old face, a tender light shining in her soft brown eyes. She ran forward as her nephew was assisted from the cab, and clasped her arms around him.
"Oh, my poor boy!" was all she could say.