Then they came sadly away.
"Which is it now?" said Peter.
"Oh, a soldier; but I'll have to wait till I grow."
"Unless you learn the drum, Johnnie Greybreeks, Then you could go at once."
But Johnnie only shook his head.
"No, no, Peter," he said; "I must be a real fighting soldier, just as poor father was."
Little did Johnnie know that at that very time there was a tidal wave advancing towards him that might lead on to fortune. Or on to death, who could tell? So true is it what Shakespeare says,—
"There is a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will."