Modesty is one of the best of
policies. To call a man honest is no more than to call him healthy or
handsome. These are attributes of nearly everyone at some time in his
life. But to do a great deed or a good deed, and to rejoice that it
has been done and the world is better for it, and not because you did
it and the world knows it, that is different. So often our modesty
consists in using as much effort to walk with hanging head and sloping
shoulders as we should need for a majestic strut.
She called me modest. Yet there I sat in my old khaki uniform. It was
ragged and dirty, and I was proud of it. It was a bit thin for a
chilly autumn day, but in spite of Tim's expostulation I had worn it,
refusing his offers of a warmer garb. I was clinging to my glory.
While I had on that old uniform, I was a soldier. When I laid it
aside, I should become as Aaron Kallaberger and Arnold Arker. A year
hence people would ask me if I had been a railroad man in my time.
She called me modest. That very morning Tim told me she was coming.
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