ill of his own,
something to set up against the whole wide world. What was he to do now?
He felt he would like to go back to Troen first of all, and talk things
over with the old father and mother; they would be sorry for him there,
and say "Poor boy," and pray for him--but after a day or two, he knew,
they would begin to glance at him at meals, and remember that there was
no one to pay for him now, and that times were hard. No, that was no
refuge for him now. But what could he do, then? Clearly it was not such
a simple matter to be all alone in the world.

A little later he found himself on a hillside by the Cathedral
churchyard, sitting under the yellowing trees, and wondering dreamily
where his father was to be buried. What a difference between him and
that schoolmaster man! No preaching with him; no whining about what his
boy might call himself or might not. Why must he go and die?

It was strange to think of that fine strong man, who had brushed his
hair and beard so carefully with his silver-backed brush--to think that
he was lying still in a coffin now, and would soon be covered up with
earth.

People were coming up the hill now, and passing in to the churchyard.
The men wore black clothes and tall shiny hats--but there were some
officers too, with plumes and sashes. And then a regimental band--with
its brass instruments. Peer slipped into the churchyard with the crowd,
but kept apart from the rest, and took up his stand a little way off,
beside a big monument. "It must be father's funeral," he thought to
himself, and was broad awake at once.

This, he guessed, must be the Cadet School, that came marching in, and
formed up in two lines from the mortuary chapel to the open grave.
The place was nearly full of people now; there were women holding
handkerchiefs to their eyes, and an elderly lady in black went into
the chapel, on the arm of a tall man in uniform. "That must be father's
wife," thought Peer, "and the young ladies there in black are--my
half-sisters, and that young lieutenant--my half-brother." How strange
it all was! A sound of singing came from the chapel. And a little later
six sergeants came out, carrying a coffin all heaped with flowers.
"Present arms!" And the soldiers presented, and the band played a slow
march and moved off in front of the coffin, between the two lines of
soldiers. And then came a great following of mourners. The lady in black
came out again, sobbing behind her handkerchief,