The old soldier took the sword Roy had held, and fetching a piece of leather from a drawer began to polish off the finger-marks left upon the steel.
“I said five o’clock, Ben,” cried the boy, very decisively.
“Nay, Master Roy, you give it up, sir. I’m too rough an old chap for you.”
“Sorry I was so disagreeable, Ben,” said the boy, offering his hand.
“Mean it, sir?”
“Why, of course, Ben.”
The hand was eagerly seized, and, it being understood that the sword practice was to begin punctually at six next morning, they separated.