The Seed of Empire by Fred M. White

The days were going on. Already the hospital at the Keep House had lost some of its wounded and others had taken their place. Ginger and his own friends still remained, though they were getting strong now, and looking forward to rejoining their comrades in the trenches. For some little time now the story of the retreat of the Musketeers and how they had been saved by a handful of their own regiment had been public property, and Ginger and the rest of them were in a fair way to be made much of; but they resolutely declined to regard their accomplishment as anything out of the common, and though more than one resolute journalist presented himself at the Keep House, Ginger resolutely declined to see him or open his mouth on the subject.

"It ain't nothin' ter make a fuss abaht," he said. "Now, what is it that little man in the straw 'at and white spats wants me to do? 'Ave I got ter make a speech and tell 'im all abaht it? It ain't anybody's business but our own. Wot do you think, chaps?"