“Why of course, father; I don’t want to be a palace lapdog all my life.”
“Bravo, Frank! well said!” cried the father heartily. “Well, you come of a military family, and I dare say I can get you a commission when the beard really does grow so that it can be seen without an optic glass.”
“Oh, I say, father, you’re beginning to tease again. I say, do get up and walk across the room.”
“Eh? What for?”
“I want to look at you.”
Sir Robert smiled and shook his head. Then, slowly rising, he drew himself up in military fashion, and marched slowly across the room and back, with his broad-skirted scarlet and gold uniform coat, white breeches, and high boots, and hand resting upon his sword hilt, and looking the beau ideal of an officer of the King’s Guards.
“There, have I been weak enough, Frank?” he said, stopping in front of his son, and laying his hands affectionately upon his shoulders. “All show, my boy. When you’ve worn it as long as I have, you will think as little of it; but it is quite natural for it to attract a boy like you. But now sit down and tell me a little about how you spend your time. I find that you have quite taken up with Andrew Forbes. His father promised me that the lad should try and be companionable to you. Forbes is an old friend of mine still, though he is in disgrace at court. How do you get on with Andrew? Like him?”
“Oh, very much, father.”
“Well, don’t like him too much, my boy. Lads of your age are rather too ready to make idols of showy fellows a year or two older, and look up to them and imitate them, when too often the idol is not of such good stuff as the worshipper. So you like him?”
“Yes, father.”