"To-morrow."
"Great guns! The little chap's close up to it! Does he know?"
"Oh, no! I wouldn't tell him till it was all arranged. Indeed, I wasn't sure whether——"
"You'd better tell him at all? Oh, yes, you will, Helen; the major mustn't stand up to be fired at blindfold." This was from Captain Stephen, the only one of the four now in active service.
"You all think it's best to have it done?"
"Why, it's as Wendell says: now's the chance to have the best man in that line. You can rest assured the Woodbridges would never stop at anything short of the finest. Besides, the Englishman's reputation is international. Of course it must be done." This was Stuart again. The cadet lieutenant had already acquired the tone of command—he was an excellent cadet lieutenant.
But Mrs. Thorndyke looked past Stuart at her Uncle Chester, Colonel Thorndyke, Civil War veteran. It was upon his opinion that she most relied. He nodded at her.
"He's right, Nell," he said. "It's our chance. The boy seems to me in as good condition for it as he'll ever be." He spoke very gently, for to his mind, as to them all, rose the vision of a delicate little face and figure, frail with the frailty of the child who has been for six years a cripple.
So it was decided, with few words, that the great surgeon should see David upon the morrow, to operate upon him at once if he thought wise, as the local surgeon, Doctor Wendell, was confident he would. Then arose another question: Who should tell David?
"Somehow I think," said Mrs. Thorndyke, looking from one to another of the four who surrounded her, "it would be easier for him from one of you. He thinks so much of your being soldiers. You know he's always playing he's a soldier, and if—if one of you could put it to him—in a sort of military way——"