"It's all right," said Lawless, looking up from a letter as he and Trent sat at breakfast in a certain old-fashioned hostelry off the East Coast. "The old boy's dubbed up."
"You mean he's handed over the boodle?" asked Trent with interest.
"Yes; he sent a cheque to the major yesterday, who's paid it into my account."
"Lucky pig, you."
"And that's not all," went on Lawless. "Seen to-day's paper?"
"Not yet."
"Well, then, look at this."
The Lieutenant handed over the paper and placed his finger on "Naval Appointments." Trent leaned forward and read: "Lieutenant-Commander F. H. Lawless, H.M.S. Knat, promoted to Commander."
"Congrats!" he cried. "You'll be an admiral some day if you are not very careful."
"Don't mention it. If you persevere in your profession and cultivate habits of cleanliness and sobriety, you may become even as I, my son."