"Tom, you're a lieutenant now, but you haven't got on your uniform," continued Captain Barney. "No, sir," replied Tom, laughing. "I went into a store to order one, and they wouldn't trust me." "Wouldn't trust _you_, Tom!" exclaimed the captain. "Show me the place, and I'll smash in their deadlights." "I don't know as I blame them. I was a stranger to them." "But, Tom, you mustn't go home without a uniform. Come with me, and you shall be fitted out at once. I'm proud of you, Tom. You are one of my boys, and I want you to go into Pinchbrook all taut and trim, with your colors flying." "We haven't time now; the train leaves in a few moments." "There will be another in an hour. The folks are all well, and don't know you're coming; so they can afford to wait." Tom consented, and Captain Barney conducted him to several stores before he could find a ready-made uniform that would fit him; but at last they found one which had been made to order for an officer who was too sick to use it at present. It was an excellent fit, and the young lieutenant was soon arrayed in the garments, with the symbolic straps on his shoulder. "Bravo, Tom! You look like a new man. There isn't a better looking officer in the service." Very likely the subject of this remark thought so too, as he surveyed himself in the full-length mirror. The old uniform, with two bullet-holes in the breast of the coat, was done up in a bundle and sent to the express office, to be forwarded to Pinchbrook. Captain Barney then walked with him to a military furnishing store, where a cap, sword, belt, and sash, were purchased. For some reason which he did not explain, the captain retained the sword himself, but Tom was duly invested with the other accoutrements. Our hero felt "pretty good," as he walked down to the station with his friend; but he looked splendidly in his new outfit, and we are willing to excuse certain impressible young ladies, who cast an admiring glance at him as he passed down the street. It was not Tom's fault that he was a handsome young man; and he was not responsible for the conduct of those who chose to look at him. With a heart beating with wild emotion, Tom stepped out of the cars at Pinchbrook. Here he was compelled to undergo the penalty of greatness. His friends cheered him, and shook his hand till his arm ached. Captain Barney's wagon was at the station, and before going to his own home, he drove Tom to the little cottage of his father. I cannot describe the emotions of the returned soldier when the horse stopped at the garden gate. Leaping from the vehicle, he rushed into the house, and bolted into the kitchen, even before the family had seen the horse at the front gate. "How d'ye do, mother?" cried Tom, as he threw himself pell-mell into the arms of Mrs. Somers. "Why, Tom!" almost screamed she, as she returned his embrace. "How _do_ you do?" "Pretty well, mother. How do you do, father?"