signal for giving over work; but Jack,
instead of returning home, picked up a small handbag he had brought
with him, and walked off in the direction of the railway station. On
his way thither, he counted the money in his pocket. He had some idea
of going to London, but the expense of the journey would be too heavy
for his resources. It mattered little where the plunge was taken; he
would go to the barracks at Melchester.

He lingered for a moment at the window of the booking-office, hardly
knowing why he hesitated.

Why not? He had only himself to please.

The clerk grew impatient. "Well?" he said.

Jack threw down his money. "Third, Melchester!" he said, and so
crossed the Rubicon.

Very few changes had taken place in the little city during the four
years which had elapsed since he last visited it. Here and there a
house had been modernized, or a new shop-front erected, but in the
neighbourhood of the school no alterations seemed to have been made.
He strolled past it in the dusk, and paused to look in through the
gates: the boys had not yet returned, and the quadrangle was dark and
deserted. He thought of the night when he and Rosher had climbed in by
way of the headmaster's garden, and forced an entry into the house
through the bathroom window. It seemed a hardship then to be obliged
to be in by a certain time, yet it was preferable to having no
resting-place to claim as one's own.

A few minutes later he halted again, this time outside the
well-remembered cookshop. "Duster's" was exactly the same as it always
had been, except for the fact that, it being holiday time, the display
of delicacies in the window was not quite so large as usual. Jack
smiled as there flashed across his mind the memory of the literary
society's supper; the faces of the sprightly Tinkleby, Preston the
bowler, "Guzzling Jimmy," and a host of others, rose before him in the
deepening twilight. They had been good comrades together once; most of
them had probably made a fair start by this time in various walks of
life. He wondered if they remembered him, and what they would say if
they knew what he was doing, and whether any of them would care what
became of him. No, he had only himself to please now, and if he
preferred soldiering to office-work, what was there to hinder him from
taking the shilling?

There was no particular hurry. He passed the night at a small
temperance hotel, and next morning, after a plain breakfast,