“I know your grandfather, my dear, and I’m _sure_ you’ll take care of me, because he says you’re a chip of the old block--and I know it, now I’ve seen you.” “You know--Dad?” he asked in wonder. “Yes--and now I know Dad’s dear chum and grandson, too,” she answered, laughing. “I’m the Mrs. Sessions you were sent for. At least, I used to be when I knew your grandfather. But for the last month I’ve been Volunteer Nurse Sessions, of the Army of the Potomac. So, you see, we are all three soldiers together: you and I and--Dad!” CHAPTER XXII THE AFTERGLOW While Jimmie was hastening over across the sun-sodden fields in search of a nurse, Captain James Dadd returned to the cottage and stood by the cot of his son, looking down at him again. Private Joseph Brinton stared back, trying to make sure that his father, the wastrel, really wore the insignia of an army captain. Trying to make sure--not to understand. That was beyond him. “Jimmie’s doing some real brave work, isn’t he?” said the father timidly. “Why, he’s--Father, I wish you’d tell me how you--” “Jimmie’s well thought of by everyone--officers and men,” Dad continued hastily, feeling suddenly guilty the moment the conversation turned to his own unworthy self. “I’m glad you have such a son, Joseph. Maybe he’ll make it up to you for my having wasted so much of my life. Because, you see, I do know, I do understand, that your own life has always been founded on big principles. And I guess there has always been something careless about--” “Stop!” ordered Private Joseph Brinton dazedly; and Captain James Dadd meekly obeyed. “Stop! As far as I can see, father, you must have done some wonderful work as a soldier--however it all came about--and--” He paused, blinked, and caught up the thread of his words: “But honestly, father--and I think you understand that I am not a man who has been accustomed to be apologetic--I really feel that I have learned something during the past year of fighting for the old flag. Somehow, honestly, father--though perhaps you won’t believe it--” Joseph stopped, almost shy, while his father hastened to assure him. “Oh, yes, yes! I do believe you, Joseph.” “Well, father, sometimes nights, when I’ve sat by a camp-fire or paced a lonely post doing sentry-go, I’ve wondered if my business was necessarily as important as I used to think it was; and I wondered if I didn’t make the mistake of thinking that Almighty God created the world just for that business of mine; and if I wasn’t rather harsh with you.” “Joe!” exclaimed Dad in wonder; but his son plunged on: