little gentler than the rest, perhaps, but as full of fun and mischief as ever a boy could be.

“Yes,” thought Bess, as she watched him, “Sam made the one grand sacrifice that the world admires and talks of; but Fred’s sacrifice is a longer and harder one, even, than his, the constant fighting to forget himself and his blindness, in trying to help make life pleasanter to the rest of us. He is winning his ‘victor’s crown of gold’ most nobly and truly.”

Half unconsciously, she hummed the line to herself. Phil gave her a quick glance of understanding.

“Well, Phil?” she asked, rousing herself from her reverie.

“Nothing, only I guess I know what you were thinking about.” And he took up the air where she had dropped it.

“Yes, Phil; that was it, and I was feeling so happy as I looked around at my boys, and saw what a good, faithful fight they have been making.”

“What is it?” asked Ted curiously.

“Only a little watchword between Fred and Phil and me,” answered Bess. Then with a