nt in the regiment of which Dick is
a captain, and, indeed, in a fair way to become a colonel--for the
second time in his life.

NETTIE.

BY ALFRED G. SAYERS.

Nettie was a bright, fair girl of fifteen years of age, tall and
graceful in movement and form, and resolute in character beyond her
years. She was standing on the departure platform of the L. & N. W.
Railway at Euston Square, watching the egress of the Manchester express,
or rather that part of it which disclosed a head, an arm, and a cap, all
moving in frantic and eccentric evolutions.

Tom, her brother, two years her senior, was on his way back to school
for his last term, full of vague, if big, ideas of what he was going to
be when, school days over, he should "put away childish things." "Most
of our fellows," he had said loftily, as he stood beside his sister on
the platform a few moments before, "go into the Army or Navy and become
admirals or generals or something of that sort." And then he had hinted
with less definiteness that his own career would probably combine the
advantages of all the professions though he only followed one. But Tom
soon dropped from these sublime heights to more mundane considerations,
and his last words concerned a new cricket bat which Nettie was to
"screw out of the gov'nor" for him, a new pup which she was to bring up
by hand under his special directions, and correspondence, which on her
part at least, was to be regular, and not too much occupied with details
about "the kids."

Nettie sighed as she turned her steps homewards, and her handkerchief
was damped by at least one drop of distilled emotion that bedewed the
rose upon her cheek. Poor Nettie, she too was conscious of a destiny,
and had bewildered thoughts of what she was going to be! She had opened
her heart on this subject to her brother Tom during the holidays; but
she had not received much encouragement, and at the present moment she
was inclined to murmur at the reflection that the world was made for
boys, and after all she was only a girl.

"What will you be?" Tom had said in answer to her question during one of
their confidential chats. "You? why, you--well, you will stay with the
mater, of course."

"Yes; but girls do all sorts of things nowadays, Tom," she had replied.
"Some are doctors, some are authors, some are----"

"Blue-stockings," responded the ungallant Tom. "Don't be absurd, Net,"
he added patronisingly; "you'll stay with the pater and m