er start to the West
Indian station in another week's time.

The coach had not long come in, and on hearing the horn the old sailor,
with a twinkle in his eye, had sent the lad to do exactly what he
wanted, but would have shrunk from for fear of seeming particular.

"Yes, uncle," he said quietly, "a box has come."

"Well, well, where is it?"

"I told him to put it in my bedroom."

"Well, why don't you go and open it, and see if your outfit is all
right?"

"Oh, there's plenty of time, uncle," said Syd, with assumed
carelessness.

"Yah! get out, you miserable young humbug. Think I was never a boy
myself, and don't know what it means. You're red-hot to go and look at
your duds. There, be off and put on your full-dress uniform, and then
come down and let's see."

"Put them on, uncle, now?"

"Yes; put them on now," cried the old man, imitating his nephew's voice
and manner. "Yes, put them on--now. Not ashamed of the King's livery,
are you?"

"No, sir, of course not."

"Then go and put them on, and don't come down with your cocked hat wrong
way on."

Syd hesitated, feeling a little abashed, but his uncle half jumped out
of his seat.

"Be off, you disobedient young dog," he roared. "If you don't want to
see them, I do. There, I'll give you a quarter of an hour."

Sydney took half an hour, and then hesitated about going down-stairs.
He peeped out of his room twice, but there was always some one on the
stairs, chambermaid, waiter, or guest staying in the place.

At last, though, all seemed perfectly quiet, and fixing his cocked hat
tightly on his head, and holding his dirk with one hand to keep it from
swinging about and striking the balusters, he ran along the passage and
dashed down the stairs.

The quick movement caused his cocked hat to come down in front over his
eyes, and before he had raised it again he had run right into the arms
of the stout landlady. There was a shrill scream, and the lady was
seated on the mat, while by the force of the rebound Sydney was sitting
on the stairs, from which post he sprang up to offer his apologies.

"You shouldn't, my dear," said the landlady, piteously, as she stretched
out her hands like a gigantic baby who wanted to be helped up.

Sydney's instincts prompted him to rush on to his father's small
sitting-room, but politeness and the appeal of the lady compelled him to
stay; and after he had raised her to her proper perpendicular, she
smiled and cast her