"Oh yes, I suppose so."
"He, he! Well, it's a long time to look forward to."
"Tottie's oldest brother is a perfect man; Llewellyn is his name. He is sixteen, and going to be a soldier, and wear a feather bonnet."
"Fine fun that'll be. Well, Jack, they say we'll soon have war. Then you will meet your cousin Llewellyn, if he isn't killed in the first off-go. Young fellows often are, because they are so foolishly rash. Soon may it come."
"What, sir?"
"Why, the war. I want my promotion; and if we had plenty of fighting, in two or three years' time, Jack, you too would win your epaulettes, and exchange your toothpick for a cheese-knife."
"I'm afraid, sir, I didn't hear you aright; did I, sir?"
"Exchange your dirk, I mean, for a long sword; that is, if we didn't have to expend a hammock on you—bury you at sea, that is."
"Oh yes, I see, sir. Then I couldn't marry Tottie, could I, sir?"
"No; you'd get out of that engagement."