'Yes,' said Willy, 'I'd like to be a soldier. But I shouldn't like to be shot,' he added, cautiously.
''Tis a fancy of all boys,' said Herries. 'They don't all qualify it, like Willy here. It was more than a fancy with me, God knows!'
'With you, sir?' asked Alison, in surprise.
'I dreamed of soldiering,' said Herries, bitterly, 'till I waked to find myself tied to a desk.'
'Was—was it a great disappointment, sir?' asked Alison, timidly.
'One of those disappointments that mark a man for life, I think,' said Herries, tersely. 'Nearly all my family in the past bore arms, and the love of it is in my blood. 'Tis the gentleman's profession, to my mind. But I was a sickly boy, and held unfit to apply for His Majesty's commission, so behold me, a poor scrivener, at your service!'
Alison stole a look at the speaker. Could it be the fine, the successful, the apparently self-sufficient Mr. Herries who spoke thus feelingly of disappointment? To Alison, it seemed that such a man must always have,—must always have had,—all that he wanted. But, evidently, this was not so.
'I'll not be so afraid of him now,' thought Alison.
They had come to another little village, just of fishermen's huts, that seem to cling to the very rocks of the sea. Here there was a harbour, and the delicate tracery of masts and rigging rose against the sky. As they stood watching, a little fleet of fishing boats—catching a faint breath of the freezing wind—unfurled their tanned brown sails, and put to sea.
'Ah, Willy, see the bonny boats!' cried Alison; and catching the boy by the hand, she ran with him away down the little street, and out upon the sandy links beyond.