The full tones began to come out there, but it wasn't till the middle of the next stanza that we began to get the glorious, ringing ones he was capable of:

O morning stars together,
Proclaim the holy birth!

Well, I looked at the fellows then. The firelight was bright as day, but none of them realized how it showed

up

their faces, and they weren't trying to cover up their expressions. They'd all been mighty sorry for Miles, though they hadn't dared to show it. But now they were showing it, all right. I don't know what my own face was like, but theirs-my word! And I should say that if you wanted to get the concentrated essence of their feeling about Miles you had only to look at Bim! That old top-sergeant without any legs under his rug-just the trunk and stumps of a man-sat

there in his wheel-chair watching Miles, with the cockiness all gone out of him. He reminded me for all the world of a young father watching his kid son make good at some stunt he'd set him his face all pride and happiness. And then I looked a little harder, and I saw something shiny on that tough cheek of his. I couldn't believe my eyes. I hadn't known Bim myself at all, but I had known other top-sergeants-you bet I hadand no soft lot they were, I'll tell the world!

I'd

I found Justine at my elbow. worked myself out of the circle of firelight into the shadow at one side― it was as good as being out of the room altogether as far as the others could get any line on my facial expression. So when Justine seized hold of my arm and squeezed it tight I could put my other hand around and cover hers and give it a big squeeze back. I knew she was all wrought up, just as I was,

and she had to get hold of somebody or burst.

"That blessed chaplain!” she whispered. So then I realized it was the chaplain that had turned the trick, as a man like that can, once in a while, when other people are afraid to try it.

The next thing I knew Jack Warne was on his feet, before Miles's song had more than ended, and he was beginning the old words we'd heard so often, Miles and Priscilla and I, when we were little shavers in the pew at St. John's on Christmas Eve:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night,

And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord was round about them, and they were sore afraid.

Christmas Eve! Yes, it was Christmas Eve again. A year ago most of us had been in France, waiting to come home. And two years ago every

man had been in France, looking up at the Christmas stars and wondering if he would ever see them from the home country again. Many a man hadn't come back, but though Miles had he'd never see the Christmas stars again. In the shadow I took another grip of Justine's hand. Somehow it seemed to me it must be easier for him, now that he'd shown us he still could sing.

Next morning at a little before seven-and before daylight-somebody rapped at my door. It was that chaplain, Jack Warne.

"Murdock," he said, coming in and sitting down on my bed, "Miss Justine tells me that your brother Miles has been dreading Christmas Day, and she explains the reason. And she thinks that though he can't hear St. John's chimes out here he may be remembering how they sound. At about that hour we're planning to get

out in the snow and sing some carols under the men's windows-she and you and Miles and I. All right, eh?"

"I'll say it is," and out I popped and into my clothes. So at the hour those old chimes would be ringing in the city Miles was standing out in the snow of that dark Christmas morning singing "Noël, Noël,"-and the rest. One by one the upper windows went up, all over the house, and then down again in a hurry, for the air was stinging cold. I don't believe Miles was thinking a thing about those chimes, though, for Justine's hand was on his arm, and the way her contralto was blending with his tenor -well, the chaplain and I kept our voices down, to hear those two, and there wasn't a bit of need of our singing at all, at all!

I don't know exactly how to tell the rest of this story. From this time on it happened like one of those rapidfire dreams that you never quite