"You are too little for a soldier," said Hugh gently; "besides, there's nobody for you to fight. We must be equal, else it won't be fair." Then turning to his brothers, he added, "Now, boys, you must kiss the book."
"What book?" cried both lads in surprise.
"Oh! I'll soon find one; here's a Markham's history, that will do well. Now you've got to say, after me, 'I promise to fight in the Wars of the Roses, and do my duty as a brave soldier.'"
Hugh looked so serious that his brothers refrained from laughing, and little Elsie watched the scene in wonderment.
"I'm glad I'm not a soldier," she said in baby scorn. "Fancy kissing a silly old hist'ry! I'd rather kiss mummie."
"Grapes are sour, Elsie," said Frank loftily.
"They isn't. They are getting lovely and ripe, Miss Beaumont had some this morning."
No notice was taken of this speech, for Frank immediately broke in with a most important question.
"Well, what side are we going to be, York or Chichester?"
"Look here, now, Frank," said Hugh, his bright eyes gleaming with fun, "you're as bad as Ronnie. I suppose you mean Lancaster."