le dressed up, Uncle Neil said as he circled round him admiringly.
But he was as neat and smart as a whip, too, even if he were thin and
even John could not hide his admiration. And as for Grandpa, he had to
take refuge in Gaelic exclamations to express himself.

The mother spoke just one hint of her regrets as they sat around the
supper table, Neil at her right hand. She smoothed his rough khaki
sleeve, examining the cloth closely, and pronounced it a fine
comfortable piece that would wear well.

"It's the only cloth to wear these days, Mother," Neil said. "Don't
you think so?"

She shook her head. "I would be hoping to see you in a black coat,
Neily," she said softly.

"That'll come later," said Neil comfortingly. "You think I did right,
don't you?" he continued, anxiously.

"Oh, yes, yes, indeed, you did right, and I'm proud that you will be
wanting to go," she declared bravely. And Neil's heart was content.

These were stirring days in Orchard Glen while the boys were home. All
the boys and girls gathered at the Lindsays just as they used to. But
there was one family missing. The McKenzies were absent, and Uncle
Neil never sang the "Standard on the Braes o' Mar" any more.

There was great fun with Sandy and Neil, for Sandy was an officer and
his elder brother a private, and it was impossible for them to remember
that Neil's old air of authority with Sandy was now quite out of place.
The private was always saluting the subaltern with tremendous gravity,
and the next moment treating him in a manner that deserved a
court-martial.

Jimmie followed his soldier brothers about in a passion of admiration.
And one day the ambition that was burning him up burst forth.

"Say, what do you think?" he cried excitedly, coming in with the
afternoon mail. "Tommy Holmes has enlisted, and he's a month younger
than I am."

"Then he's a silly youngster, and ought to be kept washing dishes to
punish him," said Neil sharply. "No boy under eighteen has any right
to enlist!"

"I'll be eighteen next Fall!" declared Jimmie defiantly.

"Which means you've barely turned seventeen, so hold your tongue," said
Sandy.

Jimmie saluted with mock meekness. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," he
said, with a great show of nervousness.

Uncle Neil laughed uproariously, but brother Neil looked serious, and
when milking time came he took Jimmie aside in the barn.

"You're worrying Mother, with your talk about enlisting," he said.