She related the pitiful incident of the school circular and the Roll of Honour. There were tears in her eyes when she had finished.
"So," she concluded, "he has made up his mind to join up."
"Good egg!" observed Roy. "Is he going to apply for a commission, or what?"
"That was what I wanted to consult you about," said Marjorie. "You are so clever about these things, Roy."
"Fire away!" replied Roy, much inflated.
"Commissions," asked Marjorie—"can you get them easily?"
"Not so easily now. The authorities are beginning to sit up and take notice. The first lot of officers in the new armies were mostly all right. They didn't know much, but they were sahibs, who played the game and handled their men properly. Now they are getting used up, and some pretty strange fish have been given commissions lately. The voice of the T.G. is heard in the land. Here is a letter from my uncle, Alan Laing—our second-in-command. You know him?"
"No, but I have seen him."
Roy chuckled.
"Yes," he said, "and he has seen you; and you fairly knocked him flat! But never mind Uncle Alan now. He's a wicked old man, anyhow. About this T.G. business. Uncle Alan wrote to me the other day. He said that some of the officers lately sent out were about the stickiest crowd he had yet handled. Here's the letter."