round the compound. He regarded
Brandis with gravity for at least ten minutes, and then delivered
himself of his opinion.

'I like you,' said he slowly, getting off his chair and coming over
to Brandis. 'I like you. I shall call you Coppy, because of your
hair. Do you _mind_ being called Coppy? It is because of ve hair, you
know.'

Here was one of the most embarrassing of Wee Willie Winkie's
peculiarities. He would look at a stranger for some time, and then,
without warning or explanation, would give him a name. And the name
stuck. No regimental penalties could break Wee Willie Winkie of this
habit. He lost his good-conduct badge for christening the
Commissioner's wife 'Pobs'; but nothing that the Colonel could do
made the Station forego the nickname, and Mrs. Collen remained 'Pobs'
till the end of her stay. So Brandis was christened 'Coppy,' and
rose, therefore, in the estimation of the regiment.

If Wee Willie Winkie took an interest in any one, the fortunate man
was envied alike by the mess and the rank and file. And in their envy
lay no suspicion of self-interest. 'The Colonel's son' was idolised
on his own merits entirely. Yet Wee Willie Winkie was not lovely. His
face was permanently freckled, as his legs were permanently
scratched, and in spite of his mother's almost tearful remonstrances
he had insisted upon having his long yellow locks cut short in the
military fashion. 'I want my hair like Sergeant Tummil's,' said Wee
Willie Winkie, and, his father abetting, the sacrifice was
accomplished.

Three weeks after the bestowal of his youthful affections on
Lieutenant Brandis--henceforward to be called 'Coppy' for the sake of
brevity--Wee Willie Winkie was destined to behold strange things and
far beyond his comprehension.

Coppy returned his liking with interest. Coppy had let him wear for
five rapturous minutes his own big sword--just as tall as Wee Willie
Winkie. Coppy had promised him a terrier puppy; and Coppy had
permitted him to witness the miraculous operation of shaving. Nay,
more--Coppy had said that even he, Wee Willie Winkie, would rise in
time to the ownership of a box of shiny knives, a silver soap-box,
and a silver-handled 'sputter-brush,' as Wee Willie Winkie called it.
Decidedly, there was no one except his father, who could give or take
away good-conduct badges at pleasure, half so wise, strong, and
valiant as Coppy with the Afghan and Egyptian medals on his breast.
Why, then, should Coppy