Eighteen—and "nothing doing" till he was twenty-one! He could have killed the cousins and uncles strutting about in uniform and saying: "Don't fret, old man—there's lots of time. The war is sure to last another four years." To say that, and laugh, how little they must know of what war meant!
It was an old custom in the Belknap family to ask Troy what he wanted for his birthday. The custom (according to tradition) had originated on his sixth anniversary, when, being given a rabbit with ears that wiggled, he had grown very red and stammered out: "I did so want a 'cyclopedia...."
Since then he had always been consulted on the subject with a good deal of ceremony, and had spent no little time and thought in making a judicious choice in advance. But this year his choice took no thinking over.
"I want to go to France," he said immediately.
"To France——?" It struck his keen ears that there was less surprise than he had feared in Mr. Belknap's voice.
"To France, my boy? The Government doesn't encourage foreign travel just now."
"I want to volunteer in the Foreign Legion," said Troy, feeling as if the veins of his forehead would burst.
Mrs. Belknap groaned, but Mr. Belknap retained his composure.
"My dear chap, I don't think you know much about the Foreign Legion. It's a pretty rough berth for a fellow like you. And they're as likely as not," he added carelessly, "to send you to Morocco or the Cameroon."
Troy, knowing this to be true, hung his head.