"Yes, you did," Tom assented, "I suppose you're mighty proud of him?"
"That I am!"
"So you ought to be!"
Bob was astounded. That his enemy, who had sneered at his father for being a common Tommy, should say this!
"I expect he'll get a medal or something?" Tom suggested, after a brief silence.
"I don't know," Bob replied. Such an idea had not occurred to him before, and he thrilled with delight at the mere thought of it.
"You know he might have been killed," Tom reminded him; "he must have known that, yet he went out under fire again and again."
"Yes," Bob agreed; "but you see, the men he went to help were wounded and couldn't help themselves. I've heard him say often that there's no call to be afraid of anything or anyone whilst we're doing what's right, because then God's with us. He just did what he thought was right, I expect, and—well, that was how it happened!"
There was another silence, during which the two boys regarded each other rather doubtfully. Tom was the one to break it.
"Look here," he said, "I'm sorry I called your father a common Tommy. He's a real hero and no mistake! If he comes home I hope you won't tell him—" He paused momentarily, then continued: "Didn't you say he couldn't bear to see animals of any kind badly treated? Yes? Well, look here, don't tell him I stoned that old woman's dog. I'll promise never to do it again, if you won't tell him."