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Osbourne, Lloyd, 1868-1947

"Love, the Fiddler"

Metaphorically
speaking, he was always pinching himself and contrasting the
monotonous past with the glorious and animated present. The change
told in his manner, in the tilt of his head, in his fearless eyes
and straighter back. It comes natural to heroes to protrude their
chests and walk upon air; and it is pardonable, indeed, in war
time, when each feels himself responsible for a fraction of his
country's honour.
"Georgie, you are positively becoming handsome," said his mother.
Amongst Raymond's comrades on the Dixie was a youngster of twenty-
one, named Howard Quintan. Something attracted him in the boy, and
he went out of his way to make things smooth for him aboard. The
liking was no less cordially returned, and the two became fast
friends. One day, when they were both given liberty together,
Howard insisted on taking him to his own home.
"The folks want to know you," he said. "They naturally think a
heap of you because I do, and I've told them how good you've been
and all that."
"Oh, rubbish!" said Raymond, though he was inwardly pleased. At
the time they were walking up Fifth Avenue, both in uniform, with
their caps on one side, sailor fashion, and their wide trousers
flapping about their ankles. People looked at them kindly as they
passed, for the shadow of the war lay on everyone and all hearts
went out to the men who were to uphold the flag. Raymond was
flattered and yet somewhat overcome by the attention his companion
and he excited.


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