"Their profession? It has been their religion! Do you know Miss Wingrave?"
"Oh, yes. Isn't she awful?" young Lechmere candidly ejaculated.
His instructor demurred.
"She's formidable, if you mean that, and it's right she should be; because somehow in her very person, good maiden lady as she is, she represents the might, she represents the traditions and the exploits of the British army. She represents the expansive property of the English name. I think his family can be trusted to come down on him, but every influence should be set in motion. I want to know what yours is. Can you do anything in the matter?"
"I can try a couple of rounds with him," said young Lechmere reflectively. "But he knows a fearful lot. He has the most extraordinary ideas."
"Then he has told you some of them—he has taken you into his confidence?"
"I've heard him jaw by the yard," smiled the honest youth. "He has told me he despises it."
"What is it he despises? I can't make out."
The most consecutive of Mr. Coyle's nurslings considered a moment, as if he were conscious of a responsibility.
"Why, I think, military glory. He says we take the wrong view of it."