"We ought to come out amongst the first twenty."
"If I am dead lag, I shall be jolly thankful," said Jim.
After lunch they took a turn down Piccadilly. Mark talked: "I say, what a glorious b-buzzing, like a swarm o' bees in June, and we're in the hive—eh?"
Presently they entered the Burlington Arcade, exchanging greetings with old school-fellows; some of them forlorn of countenance; others bubbling over with self-assurance. The Medical Board had to be passed that afternoon. Disjointed phrases flitted in and out of Mark's ear. "Not got a chance, I tell you, but it pleases my people to see me make an ass of myself—Fancy a rank outsider like that wanting to go into the Service—Yes; seventy-nine, not out—and first-class cricket—Who are those fellows with dirty collars?—If you try to crib and get nailed, you're done—Hullo, Samphire minor! you're going to pass in first, I know—I say, I saw your aunt the other day—What dead?—And a jolly good thing, too—One of the biggest duffers in the school, I tell you—With windgalls and an awful splint—Played for the 'Varsity—And, as luck 'd have it, he hit her favourite cat——"
Outside the Arcade, they shook themselves free of the chatterers.
"I am in a beastly funk," said Jim, as they went up the stairs of Burlington House.
"Funk of what?" Mark answered impatiently.
"I don't know," Jim muttered vaguely.
They entered a long, ill-lighted room, and waited their turn. Boy after boy came out grinning, and buttoning up coat and waistcoat.
"Rather a farce this medical exam," whispered Mark; and then, as he spoke, his voice broke into a stammer: "I s-s-say—w-w-who's this?"