No matter when the boy came, he always found the captain busy with his carving. Day by day the old broomstick was slowly approaching a wonderful transformation. It would soon be turned into a long, slender chain, with each tiny, separate link perfectly fashioned. Sometimes, the nurse, not knowing that it was intended for her, and wondering at the old man's childish impatience to finish it, would gently insist on taking it out of his feverish fingers. "Wait till to-morrow, when you are stronger," she would urge. He would then reluctantly give it up, but the thought of his work stayed with him. Even in his sleep his poor crippled hand bent as if to grasp it, and the left one feebly repeated the motions of wielding a knife. "I have set my heart on having it done by Washington's Birthday," he whispered one day to Max. "Oh, if I can only hold out to finish it!" he added, as he sank back wearily. The nurse put the unfinished work aside, but the next morning he begged so imploringly for it that she had not the heart to refuse. When the twenty-second of February came, Miss Clay's schoolroom was in gala dress for the occasion. She had been untiring in her efforts to make the ceremonies a success, but unconsciously to himself the old captain had done far more than she to arouse an interest in the programme. Max came first with his old canteen, and repeated the story that the captain had told him, of the brave comrade who had carried it. Then one of the boys brought an old army cape of faded blue, and another a broken spur. Simple tales were told of love and loyalty that had never found their way into print, but they stirred the hearts of the hearers in the schoolroom with a pathetic tenderness for these unknown men who had been so bravely true. Doctor Morris came into the room just in time to see the big fellow stand up who had declared the Father of his Country a "back number." He, too, had been with the captain, for he carried an old blood-stained, bullet-torn flag. He told its history so well that the tears came to his eyes in his earnestness, and the audience sympathized with the feeling and applauded him when he had finished. "I see that we have a member of the school board with us," said Miss Clay, bowing to Doctor Morris. "We want to hear from him before we have our last song." This was the opportunity the doctor was waiting for. He took a little package from his pocket. It was the captain's finished chain, from which hung a tiny anchor, beautifully carved and polished. "The nurse showed this to me a little while ago," he said, "and I asked her to let me bring it here for you to see." The speech that followed was very much like the one he had made to Max in the sleigh--all afire with admiration for the man who, with crippled hand and with empty pockets, had turned his back on office, for love of country, for conscience' sake.