“When does the draft come off?” inquired Elfie, without answering Britomarte’s question.
“Next week.”
“Then next week you will find out what I mean.”
“How?”
“That’s all.”
And that was all, for not another word of explanation could Britomarte get from Elfie.
The next morning after this conversation, Justin paid one of his rare visits to the parsonage.
He informed his sister that he was promoted to the rank of corporal, and laughingly pointed to the chevrons on his sleeves.
Major Fielding, who was much better, and was expecting to be ordered to his regiment, chuckled as he congratulated Corporal Rosenthal.
“Your promotion is the second step up the ladder of military fame, on which your enlistment was the first step. And let me remind you, my boy, that half the greatest generals the world has ever known were men who rose from the ranks. Why, Lord bless my soul, boy, I myself enlisted as a private soldier, and see where I am now,” said the major, with a little pardonable egotism.