But the regiment reached Boston, and marched through the streets, and paraded on the Common; and all the while his longing eyes looked in vain for his friends, who never appeared. It seemed to him that nearly every other fellow in his company saw friends either on the march or at the halt, while he alone was left unnoticed and uncomforted. And so his anticipated hour of enjoyment was changed to one of bitterness. Why was it? His last letter must have had time to reach his family. Besides, they might have seen by the newspapers that the regiment was coming. Why then did they fail to meet him? His heart swelled with grief as he thought of it,--he was there, so near home, for perhaps the last time, and nobody that he loved was with him during those precious, wasting moments. But, suddenly, as he was casting his eyes for the twentieth time along the lines of spectators, searching for some familiar face, he heard a voice--not father's or mother's, or sister's, but one scarcely less dear than the dearest. "My bwother Fwank! me want my bwother Fwank!" And turning, he saw little Willie running towards him, almost between the legs of the policemen stationed to keep back the crowd. VII. THROUGH BOSTON. If ever "bwother Fwank" felt a thrill of joy, it was then. Willie ran straight to his arms, in spite of the long-legged officer striding to catch him, and pulling down his neck, hugged him, and kissed him, and hugged and kissed him again, with such ardor that the delighted bystanders cheered, and the pursuing policeman stepped back with a laugh of melting human kindness. "He's too much for me, that little midget is," he said, returning to his place. "Does he belong to you, ma'am?" addressing a lady whose humid eyes betrayed something more than a stranger's interest in the scene. "They are my children," said the lady. "Will you be so good, sir, as to tell the drummer boy to step this way?" But already Frank was coming. How thankful he then felt that he was not a private, confined to the ranks! In a minute his mother's arm was about him, and her kiss was on his cheek, and Helen was squeezing one hand, and his father the other, while Willie was playing with his drumsticks. "I am all the more glad," he said, his face shining with gratitude and pleasure, "because I was just giving you up--thinking you wouldn't come at all."