eded to
his desire to stay at home.

Then Pen's uncle offered to use his influence with His Royal Highness
the Commander-in-Chief, who was pleased to be very kind to him, and
proposed to get Pen a commission in the Foot Guards. Pen's heart leaped
at this: he had been to hear the band at St. James's play on a Sunday,
when he went out to his uncle. He had seen Tom Ricketts, of the fourth
form, who used to wear a jacket and trousers so ludicrously tight, that
the elder boys could not forbear using him in the quality of a butt or
'cockshy'--he had seen this very Ricketts arrayed in crimson and gold,
with an immense bear-skin cap on his head, staggering under the colours
of the regiment. Tom had recognised him and gave him a patronising nod.
Tom, a little wretch whom he had cut over the back with a hockey-stick
last quarter--and there he was in the centre of the square, rallying
round the flag of his country, surrounded by bayonets, crossbelts,
and scarlet, the band blowing trumpets and banging cymbals--talking
familiarly to immense warriors with tufts to their chins and Waterloo
medals. What would not Pen have given to wear such epaulettes and enter
such a service?

But Helen Pendennis, when this point was proposed to her by her son, put
on a face full of terror and alarm. She said she "did not quarrel with
others who thought differently, but that in her opinion a Christian had
no right to make the army a profession. Mr. Pendennis never, never would
have permitted his son to be a soldier. Finally, she should be very
unhappy if he thought of it." Now Pen would have as soon cut off his
nose and ears as deliberately, and of aforethought malice, made his
mother unhappy; and, as he was of such a generous disposition that he
would give away anything to any one, he instantly made a present of his
visionary red coat and epaulettes and his ardour for military glory to
his mother.

She thought him the noblest creature in the world. But Major Pendennis,
when the offer of the commission was acknowledged and refused, wrote
back a curt and somewhat angry letter to the widow, and thought his
nephew was rather a spooney.

He was contented, however, when he saw the boy's performances out
hunting at Christmas, when the Major came down as usual to Fairoaks.
Pen had a very good mare, and rode her with uncommon pluck and grace. He
took his fences with great coolness, and yet with judgment, and without
bravado. He wrote to the chaps at scho