“Sixteen,” replied the hostess, sadly.
“Just on the dawn of manhood, madam. Hah, Forrester, old friend, it is a grand thing to be sixteen, and with life before you. God bless all boys! How little they know how grand a thing it is to be young!”
There was silence after this speech—a silence which lasted till Fred entered eagerly.
“The horse is quite right, sir,” he cried.
“How do you know, boy?”
“How do I know, sir? Because he is eating his corn so well, and feels so comfortable and cool. I say—”
“Well?”
“He’s a fine horse.”
“Yes. So he is. A splendid fellow. There, my kind hosts, I’ll say good night. I would I had come on another mission, but it is only duty, and you must forgive me. I shall be off at dawn. Good night, madam. Good night, Forrester. I knew I could depend on you. Good night, my boy. You’ll forgive me for pinching your shoulder so hard. It was to try your mettle.”
“Oh, I didn’t mind,” cried Fred. “Good night, sir; and when I do become a soldier, will you have me in your regiment?”