“Thank Heaven!” said Tom. “And his physique,” said the doctor. “This colonel of yours is a tough fellow, and a brave man; yet, if he should die to-morrow, I should simply put down his name, and never think of him again. My note-book is full of dead men’s names,――just a mention and nothing more. Oh! by the way, a gentleman called here for you yesterday afternoon, and said he would come again this morning. Here is his card.” “Why,” cried Tom, “it is the Professor. See that he is shown up to me when he comes, won’t you?” “Oh, certainly! I’ll attend to that,” said the doctor, and he rushed softly away. Tom sat down by the side of the bed, and looked at his friend’s face. It had changed greatly, much more than his, since they left Cambridge. The forehead was marked now with heavy lines, and the full beard made it seem like the countenance of a man of forty. So old can even a boy grow in a year. Ned had trained himself, with great effort, to unquestioning obedience. His criticism had been only upon those to whom he gave his orders, and he had struggled not to form an opinion on those to whom his obedience was due; thus he had become an admirable officer. Tom sat there looking at Ned, and thinking, thinking, he could scarcely tell of what, until he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He turned and saw the Professor, and fairly hugged him in his delight. “So I have found you at last, Tom,” said the Professor. “Just think, sir,” said Tom; “it is a year now since I have seen you.” “And the end seems as far off as ever,” said the Professor. “Don’t say that,” said Tom, “because sometimes, you know, I have to try very hard not to think so myself.” “Ah!” said the Professor, “you are still the same, I see, and I am the same; and Ned,――is this Ned?” “Yes, poor fellow,” said Tom; “he has been sick for nearly ten days.” “But how came you to be with him?” asked the Professor. “Why are you not with your regiment?” “Sit down,” said Tom, “and I’ll tell you; but don’t speak too loud, on his account, you know!” “Among the wonderful effects of the war,” said the Professor, in a didactic manner, “may be mentioned the fact that it has made Tom thoughtful and considerate. Well, go on!” “That sounds just like you,” said Tom. “Well, the explanation is simply this: that I had a leave of absence for a fortnight given me, and just at its beginning Ned was taken sick.” “So you remained here with him, and didn’t go home?” asked the Professor. “Of course,” said Tom, simply. “I couldn’t leave him after all we had been through together.” “What did your mother say?” asked the Professor. “Wasn’t she disappointed?” “Yes, she was disappointed,” said Tom; “but she wrote and said that I was right. It was hard on Ned, and hard on me, and hard on her, especially as I haven’t been home for a year. You see, in my last leave of absence, there was some of the worst fighting that we have been in, and it would have seemed cowardly if I had gone then.”