at curiously understanding sympathy and affection
which seem to be the special privilege of twins.

Mr. Robey was popular and respected, and those dwellers in the Close who
had daughters were pleased with the life and animation which the
presence of so many young men gave to the place. The more thoughtful
were also glad to think that the shadow of their beloved cathedral
rested benignantly over the temporary home of those future officers and
administrators of the Empire. And of all those who had been coached at
"Robey's" during the last two years, there was none better liked, though
there had been many more popular, than the young man who now stood
smiling at old Anna.

During the first three months of his sojourn in the Close, Jervis Blake
had counted very little, for it had naturally been supposed that he
would soon go off to Sandhurst or Woolwich. Then he had failed to pass
the Army Entrance Examination, not once, as so many did, but again and
again, and the good folk of Witanbury, both gentle and simple, had grown
accustomed to see him coming and going in their midst.

Unfortunately for Jervis Blake, his father, though a distinguished
soldier, was a very peculiar man, one who had owed nothing in his hard
laborious youth to influence; and he had early determined that his only
son should tread the path he had himself trod.

And now poor young Blake had reached the age limit, and failed for the
last time. Every one had been sorry, but no one had been surprised in
Witanbury Close, when the result of the May Army Exam. had been
published in July.

One person, Mr. Robey himself, had been deeply concerned. Indeed, the
famous coach muttered to one or two of his old friends, "It's a pity,
you know! Although I make my living by it, I often think there's a good
deal to be said against a system which passes in--well, some boys whose
names I could give you, and which keeps out of the Army a lad like
Jervis Blake! He'd make a splendid company officer--conscientious,
honest, unselfish, keen about his work, and brave--well, brave as only a
man----"

And one of those to whom he said it, seeing him hesitate, had broken in,
with a slight smile, "Brave as only a man totally lacking in imagination
can be, eh, Robey?"

"No, no, I won't have you say that! Even an idiot has enough imagination
to be afraid of danger! There's something fine about poor Jervis."

They'd gradually all got to call young Blake "Jervis" in that household.