"I have heard there is a young parson going after you. Are you going to make a match of it, Alice?" And again he laughed.
"Good-bye, Tom, I hope you will do well." And Alice left him with a strange fluttering in his heart.
Tom joined the Loyal North Lancashires. I will not say which battalion, as the mention of it might cause some of my readers to identify the lad whose story I am telling. His unit was located at a large Lancashire town some thirty miles from Brunford. Here he was initiated into the secrets of a soldier's life. At first everything was a drudgery to him; he could not see the meaning of what he was doing, could not understand how "forming fours" and other parts of his drill could help him to be a soldier. Still, being a fairly sharp, common-sense lad, he picked up his work quickly, and in the course of a few weeks was physically much better for his training. At the end of three months he was nearly two inches taller, and more than three inches bigger around the chest than at the time he joined. He began to enjoy his work, too. The young subaltern whose duty it was to train the company had more than once singled him out as a capable fellow, and as the cold winter days passed away and spring began to advance Tom could undergo a twenty- or thirty-mile march without weariness. He was well fed, well housed, and well clothed, and while his pocket money was not extravagant, he had enough for his needs.
Indeed in many respects it would have been better for Tom if he had had less money. The influence of the Thorn and Thistle was still strong upon him, and I have to relate with sadness that on more than one occasion Tom barely escaped punishment for being drunk and disorderly. Most of the lads with whom he was brought into contact were, on the whole, steady and well-behaved. On the other hand, however, there were a number of them who had a bad influence upon him. In fact, while he narrowly escaped being brought before his superiors for his various misdemeanours, Tom's character was steadily deteriorating. The first flush of enthusiasm, and loyalty, and even something nobler than loyalty, which had been aroused in him by the speaker who had caused him to join the army, slowly faded away. The men with whom he associated did not help him to be on the side of the angels, rather they appealed to what was coarse and debased in his nature.
To tell the truth, there was very little in Tom's life which tended to ennoble him. It is true there was a service for soldiers every Sunday morning in one of the big buildings in the town, and while Tom, lover of music as he had always been, was somewhat influenced by the singing of the men, and while the hymns reminded him of his Sunday-school days, they did not move him very deeply. He paid little or no attention to the ministrations of the chaplain. Neither did he avail himself of the many meetings which were held for soldiers by the various churches in the town. Indeed, up to this point Tom was not the better, but the worse, for joining the Army.
There was in Tom's company a young fellow much superior to the rank and file of the soldiers. He was a young Cornish lad, the son of a well-to-do father who had sent him to a good public school, and from thence to Lancashire to learn the manufacturing business. This young fellow, Robert Penrose by name, although belonging socially to a different class from that in which Tom moved, took a liking to him. He was amused at his good humour, and seemed to be grieved at seeing him drifting with the dregs of the battalion.
"I say, Pollard," he said to him on one occasion, "do you know you are making an ass of yourself? You have the makings of a man in you, and yet you mix with that lot."
"Why shouldn't I?" said Tom.
"Because you have more brains than they have, are better educated, and are capable of better things."
"Why shouldn't I have a lark while I can?" replied Tom. "I shall have to go to the front in a month or two, so I will just make hay while the sun shines."