“No,” he said sharply, “that’s it; you have not got on badly with your studies. From every professor I have had the same report, that your papers are excellent. That’s where it is. You were nearly at the head of the list in the artillery, and it was only just that you should be appointed. But, all the same, you dog, you’ve influential people at your back. That old uncle the director. I hope one of these days both services will give their promotions and appointments by merit alone.”
“Then you think it unjust, sir, that one so young as I am should get his commission?” I said warmly.
“No, I do not, Vincent. Don’t be so peppery. What a temper you have, sir. You must master that. I think, in this instance, the interest has been well exercised. I have had plenty of inquiries about you, and I’ve been obliged to speak well of you always.”
I coloured a little.
“You’re too young, but they want officers badly, and you’ll soon get older, and I have no doubt will make a good soldier, if you command your temper. You ought to have been in the engineers, though.”
“Oh no, sir,” I said eagerly. “I want to be a gunner. Is the commission for the Horse Artillery?”
He laughed and took snuff.
“Why, you conceited young greenhorn!” he said good-humouredly. “Has all the teaching of the Honourable the East India Company’s profession been so poor here at Brandscombe, that you have not learned that it is quite a promotion to get into the Horse Brigade. That they are picked men from the foot—men full of dash—who can afford to keep the best of horses, and who are ready to ride at anything.”
“My uncle would let me have any horses I want, sir,” I said; “and I can ride.”
“Like a gentleman in the park,” he said contemptuously.