“Who is the unfortunate purchaser?”
“Tom Hargate, crimp-general to the yeomanry.”
“I’m delighted to hear it, old fellow! We have been wanting you for two years back in the corps. ’Gad! won’t we have fun when we go into quarters. I say, M’Whirter—why don’t you become a yeoman?”
I started at the suggestion, which, strange to say, had never crossed my mind before. There was a way then open to me—a method left by which I might satisfy, without compromising my professional character, the scruples of Edith, and become a member of the military service without abandoning the pen. The man that hesitates is lost.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I think I should rather like it. It seems a pretty uniform.”
“Pretty!” said Randolph. “By the Lord Harry, it’s the splashest affair possible! I’ll tell you what, M’Whirter, I’ll back you in the yeoman’s jacket and pantaloons against the Apollo Belvidere.”
“It is regular Queen’s service, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. Only we have no flogging.”
“That’s no great disadvantage. Well, upon my word, I have a great mind”——
“Then, by Jove, there goes the very man! Hallo—Hargate, I say—Tom Hargate!”