"Yes," said I, firmly.
"But your parents——" he urged gently: "think of them."
"I have none," said I, in tones that faltered as my heart swelled with emotion, and the old man shook his head sadly.
"You will never be able to undergo the hardships of foreign service," said he, shaking his head.
"Then I will help to fill the trenches," said I, with that spirit of bravado which we so often feel or assume in youth.
The corporal said something approvingly; then the rector sighed, as he dipped a pen in an inkhorn, and placed on his desk a printed document, preparatory to filling up the blanks, or fifteen replies to questions always asked of a recruit at attestation.
"What is your name?" he began.
Now it was that my heart failed me, and the question had to be repeated three times, as I could not tell an untruth.
"Do you hear me," he added, gently; "your name?"
"Basil Gauntlet."