t buttons were as glossy as my own.
I noted this; but it conveyed little to me, for my imagination clothed in
equal splendour everyone in his Majesty's service.

He appeared to be young, even delicately youthful; but I felt it necessary
to assert my manhood before him, and rang for the waiter.

"A glass of beer, if you please," said I.

The waiter lifted his eyebrows and looked from me to the sofa.

"_One_ glass of beer, sir?" he asked.

"I hardly like to offer--" I began lamely, following his glance.

"It is more usual, sir. _In_ the Service. Between two young gentlemen
as, by the addresses on their chestes, is both for the _Melpomeny_: and
newly joined."

"Hulloa!" said I, turning round to the sofa, "are you in the same fix as
myself?"

Reading in his face that it was so, I corrected my order, and waved the
waiter to the door with creditable self-possession. As soon as he had
withdrawn, "My name's Rodd," said I. "What's yours?"

"Hartnoll," he said; "from Norfolk."

"I come from the West--Devonshire," said I, and with an air of being proud
of it; but added, on an afterthought, "Norfolk must be a fine county,
though I've never seen it. Nelson came from there, didn't he?"

"His place is only six miles from ours," said Hartnoll. "I've seen it
scores of times."

And with that he stuck his hands suddenly in his pockets, turned away from
me, and stared very resolutely out of the dirty bow-window.

When the waiter had brought the drinks and retired again, Hartnoll
confessed to me that he had never tasted beer. "You'll come to it in
time," said I encouragingly: but I fancy that the tap at the Blue Posts
was of a quality to discourage a first experiment. He tasted his, made a
face, and suggested that I might deal with both glasses. I had, to begin
with, ordered the beer out of bravado, and one gulp warned me that bravado
might be carried too far. I managed, indeed--being on my mettle--to drain
my own glass, and even achieved a noise which, with Hartnoll, might pass
for a smacking of the lips: but we decided to empty his out of window, for
fear of the waiter's scorn. We heaved up the lower sash--the effort it
cost went some way to explaining the fustiness of the room--and Hartnoll
tossed out the beer.

There was an exclamation below.

While we craned out to see what had happened, the waiter's voice smote on
our ears from the doorway behind us, saying that young gentlemen would be
young gentlemen all