Many villagers from door or window cast a kindly and admiring eye upon the gallant little figure stepping to his own music down the street.

He was brass band, conductor, brigadier general all in one, and behind him marched an army of heroes off for war and deathless glory, invisible and invincible.

To the Widow Martin as he swung past the leader flung a wave of his hand.

With a tender light in her old eyes the Widow Martin waved back at him.

"God bless his bright face," she murmured, pausing in her work to watch the upright little figure as he passed along.