It was poor Tom Stubble, who had marched out of Brussels so gallantly twenty-four hours before, bearing the colours of the regiment, which he had defended very gallantly upon the field. A French lancer had speared the young ensign in the leg, who fell, still bravely holding to his flag. At the conclusion of the engagement, a place had been found for the poor boy in a cart, and he had been brought back to Brussels.
"Mr. Sedley, Mr. Sedley!" cried the boy, faintly, and Jos came up almost frightened at the appeal. He had not at first distinguished who it was that called him.
Little Tom Stubble held out his hot and feeble hand. "I'm to be taken in here," he said. "Osborne--and--and Dobbin said I was; and you are to give the man two napoleons: my mother will pay you." This young fellow's thoughts, during the long feverish hours passed in the cart, had been wandering to his father's parsonage which he had quitted only a few months before, and he had sometimes forgotten his pain in that delirium.

It was poor Tom Stubble, who had marched out of Brussels so gallantly twenty-four hours before, bearing the regimental colours, which he had defended very bravely. A French lancer had speared him: he fell, still holding his flag. After the battle, a place had been found for the poor boy in a cart, and he was brought back to Brussels.
"Mr. Sedley, Mr. Sedley!" cried the boy faintly, and Jos came up almost frightened.
Little Tom Stubble held out his hot and feeble hand. "I'm to be taken in here," he said. "Osborne - and - and Dobbin said I was; and you are to give the man two napoleons: my mother will pay you." The young fellow was delirious.
