ows, would remain at the
bottom of the tree."

"But you forget, Aunt Deb, that there are ways of getting on besides
through interest. I intend to do all sorts of dashing things, and win
my promotion, through my bravery. If I can once become a midshipman I
shall have no fear about getting on."

"Stuff and nonsense!" again ejaculated Aunt Deb, "you know nothing about
the matter, boy."

"Don't I though," I said to myself, for I knew that my father, who felt
the importance of finding professions for his sons according to their
tastes, had some time before written to Sir Reginald Knowsley, of
Leighton Park,--"the Squire," as he used to be called till he was made a
baronet, and still was so very frequently, asking him to exert his
influence in obtaining an appointment for me on board a man-of-war.
This Sir Reginald had promised to do. Aunt Deb, however, had made many
objections, but for once in a way my father had acted contrary to her
sage counsel, and as he considered for the best. Still Aunt Deb had not
given in.

"You'll do as you think fit, John," she observed to him, "but you will
repent it. Dick is not able to take care of himself at home, much less
will he be so on board a big ship among a number of rough sailors. Let
him remain at school until he is old enough to go into a counting-house
in London or Bristol, where he'll make his fortune and become a
respectable member of society, as his elder brother means to be, or let
him become a master at a school, or follow any course of life rather
than that of a soldier or a sailor."

I did not venture to interrupt Aunt Deb, indeed it would have been
somewhat dangerous to have done so, while she was arguing a point, but I
had secretly begged my father to write to Sir Reginald as he had
promised, assuring him that I had set my heart on following a naval
career, and that it would break if I was not allowed to go to sea. This
took place, it will be understood, some time before the evening of which
I am now speaking.

Aunt Deb suspected that my father was inclined to favour my wishes, and
this made her speak still more disparagingly than ever of the navy.

Tea was nearly over when the post arrived. It only reached us of an
evening, and Sarah, the maid, brought in a large franked letter. I at
once guessed that it was from Sir Reginald Knowsley, who was in London.

I gazed anxiously at my father's face as he read it. His countenance
did not, however, exhibit any