“You’ll spend all your pay on yourself,” said David.
“Out of my prize-money then.”
“You can’t get prize-money without a war,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh! don’t let there be a war!” cried Susan.
“Yes, but there is!” said Harry in a tremendous tone; and as Miss Fosbrook held up her hands, “at least there was one in the Black Sea; and I know there was a battle in the newspaper—at least, Mr. Carey read about Palermo.”
“I don’t think Garibaldi in Sicily will put much prize-money into your pocket, Hal,” said Miss Fosbrook.
“Oh! but there’s sure to be a war! and I shall get promoted, and be a man before any of you. I shall go about, and see condors, and lions, and elephants, and wear a sword—at least, a dirk—while you are learning Latin and Greek at Uncle John’s!”
“Don’t make such a noise about it!” said Sam crossly.
“I don’t know why you should be the one to go,” said Elizabeth. “Sam is the eldest.”
“Yes; but Sam is such a slow-coach. Papa said I was the only one fit to make a sailor of—at least, he said I was smart, and—Hollo! Sam, I won’t have you kicking my legs!”