of being considered capable
of wielding a full-sized sword, and in due time, though not until I had
fretted myself into a great state of excitement, the accoutrements were
sent home.

It was hard work to assume that indifference which I did not feel, and
I'm afraid that I did not deceive anybody save myself.

I knew when the things came, for one of the servants came and told me,
and I said in a tone suggestive of the idea that I was in the habit of
having uniforms sent home, "Have the things placed in my room."

The servant stared at me, and I turned away, feeling furiously hot as I
longed to run up and tear open the packages and tin boxes to gloat over
their contents. But I taught myself to feel that I could not do that
now--it would be too boyish, so I suffered tortures as I went out into
the grounds to talk to some of our fellows, and try to keep my mind to
what was being said.

Then came relief in the shape of Morton, who hurried up to the group
where I stood. "Hi! Gil Vincent," he cried excitedly. "What's the
matter?" I said in what was intended to be a cool way, but decidedly
was not.

"What's the matter, indeed! They're taking your gorgeous array up into
your room. Tin cases and swords, and goodness knows what. Come on!"

"Come on?" I said coolly; "what do you mean?"

"Hark at him!" cried Morton. "Here he is, as cool as a fish. Don't you
want to tog out?"

"No. What nonsense!" I said; but I can remember feeling excited as he
spoke.

"Get out! Don't be a humbug. You're red hot to get into them."

"Absurd! Why, I shall be always wearing that sort of thing soon."

"Gammon!" cried Morton. "Oh, I say, what a jolly impostor you are, Gil.
Come on, lads, let's have him in, and make him paint himself up for our
glorification."

"Oh, if you all particularly wish it," I said, "I don't mind."

There was a roar of laughter at this; and to hide my annoyance, I joined
in, and was soon after spreading out jacket and coatee, striped
trousers, belts, and slings, all of which, after being duly admired,
were donned and exhibited in their proper places.

"Talk about pomp and vanity!" cried Morton.

"Don't be jealous," I replied, as I began to feel excited.

"I'm not a bit, Gil; but you might own to being proud as a peacock of
your togs. Come, you are--aren't you?"

"I suppose so," I said, as I involuntarily glanced at myself in the
glass; and then I felt hotter than ever, for I saw my fellow-pu