“Well, quite feel it then, my lad,” said Sir Robert, clapping him on the shoulder. “It rests with you.—Think Frank here will ever be man enough for a soldier, Murray?”
“Man enough? Of course,” said the officer addressed. “We must get them both commissions as soon as they’re old enough. Forbes might begin now.”
“H’m! Ha!” said Sir Robert, giving the lad a dry look. “Andrew Forbes will have to wait a bit.”
Then, seeing the blood come into the lad’s face at the remark which meant so much:
“He’s going to wait for Frank here.—Well, isn’t it nearly dinner-time?—Hungry, boys?”
“Er—no, sir,” said Andrew.
“Frank is,” said Sir Robert, smiling at his son.
“Can’t help it, father,” said the boy frankly. “I always am.”
“And a capital sign too, my lad,” said the officer addressed as Murray. “There’s nothing like a fine healthy appetite in a boy. It means making bone and muscle, and growing. Oh yes, he’ll be as big as you are, Gowan. Make a finer man, I’ll be bound.”
“Don’t look like it,” said Sir Robert merrily; “why, the boy’s blushing like a great girl.”