It was a bad half-hour for Phil, but, like all things, it came to an end. Soon he was back in the barrack-room, with friends crushing round and eagerly gazing at the gold watch and chain presented to him.
What Phil valued most was the crown set with brilliants on the back, and the inscription beneath, which ran:
“Presented to Corporal Philip Western, of the Grenadier Guards,
In recognition of his gallantry,
By Victoria R.”
Many and many a time did Phil pull out the watch and gaze at that inscription, and often too did he determine that one day it should lie in the waistcoat pocket of an officer.
“It’s my first step in the regiment,” he said quietly to Tony, when talking over his promotion, “and I hope it will not be the last.”
“Never fear, young un! You’ll get higher yet, I know,” Tony replied earnestly. “In these days of peace it will take a time, no doubt; but if there’s war, as seems likely, then you’ll go up, and I don’t mind telling yer it’s my opinion you’ll be an officer yet afore I gets my stripes.”
“Humbug, Tony! It takes years and years to get a commission, even when on active service. But I mean to have a good try for it, and should troubles come with some foreign power, then, as you say, there is all the more chance of my being successful. Now I am off to the quarter-master to ask him to put this in his safe and keep it for me. I wouldn’t lose it for worlds.”