Even my little Bertie felt it.

Young as he was, he never forgot that awful night when we fled from the fire, nor the hungry day that followed, nor the fact that the arm that carried him food, when he got it at last, wore a brassard marked like that." He touched the Red Cross on Hero's collar.
"And when the chance came to show the same brotherly spirit to some one else in trouble and pass the help along, he was as ready as the rest of us to do his share.
"Three years afterward I read in the papers of the floods that had swept through the Ohio and Mississippi valleys, and of the thousands that were homeless.

Bertie,--he was six then,--he listened to the account of the children walking the streets, crying because they hadn't a roof over them or anything to eat.

He didn't say a word, but he climbed up to the mantel and took down his little red savings-bank.
"We were pretty near on our feet again by that time, although we were still living in a cabin.

The crops had been good, and we had been able to save a little.