[Illustration: WILFRED DRIVES POP WINTERS TO KINGSTON.] At the big hospital in Kingston the doctors were examining applicants for increase in pensions and Wilfred’s sense of humor was touched by the presentation of ailments as credentials. It was an eloquent and pathetic reminder of how the old veterans are dying away. Some of them, crippled and enfeebled, had hobbled to the place unescorted. Wilfred was glad and proud of what he had done. It was a good turn really worth while. He had seen many that were not. No verdict was rendered by Uncle Sam’s examining physicians (that would come later), but it seemed to Wilfred that with the rheumatiz, “heart-ail,” sciatici, lameness, and the loss of sight in one eye, Pop Winters ought to come off with flying colors. “And what’s the matter with _you_?” the examining physician shot at Wilfred by way of a pleasantry. “You want a pension?” “I guess I’m all right,” said Wilfred. “I’m supposed to have heart trouble—I had diphtheria.” “You look husky enough,” said the doctor pleasantly. “When did you have diphtheria?” “Oh, about three months ago. I’m staying at a scout camp up this way. Maybe you can tell me if it’s all right for me to run and jump yet—and do things. They said around the first I better ask the doctor. I wouldn’t run or dive or anything like that before the first anyway. But I guess there’s no harm in my asking as long as I’m here. I couldn’t pay you any money because I spent my five dollars to bring Mr. Winters here in a buggy.” The doctor seemed greatly taken by this boyish frankness. “Well, we’ll see if you can hop, skip and jump,” said he, applying the stethoscope which was still in his hand. Wilfred stood straight, threw back his shoulders and down went that wavy lock of hair. He looked a fine enough specimen of a boy, tall, slender, with a spirited pose of his head. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t live a couple of hundred years, with careful nursing,” said the doctor. “You mean there’s nothing the matter; I’m all right?” “Far as I can see; you just had after effects and so you had to play safe for a while. You’re all right now. Feel all right, don’t you?” “Sure I do, only I made a promise I wouldn’t be lively and all that for a month. The month is up on Tuesday. It seems kind of like Christmas.” “Christmas, eh?” laughed the doctor. “You’d think so if you did like I did.” “And you didn’t jump or run once?” “No, sir.” “Well, you’re some boy.” “I was thinking about soldiers,” Wilfred said. “You saw a lot of them here to-day—veterans. They have to mind exactly, don’t they? I mean when they were in service they did.” “Exactly?” “I mean do a thing just exactly like they were told to—they couldn’t get it changed—soldiers couldn’t.” “Oh, you mean discipline?”