"It's the Thorndyke spirit," said Colonel Chester proudly. "He's Roger's
boy, all right."
There were two or three doubtful bulletins. Then Arthur brought them the
good news that the major had been brought back from the firing-line and
was rallying bravely.
"But will he pull through? These successful operations don't always end
successfully," said Stuart, as he and Arthur paced down the corridor
together.
"That's what we've got to wait and hope and pray for," answered Arthur.
"It's the 'stormed at with shot and shell' the major'd be reciting now,
if he could do anything but shut his lips together and try to bear the
pain. It'll be five or six days, they say, before we can call him out of
danger. Hip-joint disease of Davy's form isn't cured by anything short
of this grave operation, and it's taking a good many chances, of course,
in the little chap's delicate condition. But--we've all his own staunch
courage on our side--and somehow, well--Stuart, I've got to preach
to-morrow. And next week--that Memorial address! How do you suppose I'm
going to do it? The major wants me on hospital duty every hour between
now and then.
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