ad to do times and again!"

"Did you kill lots of men--yourself? How many have you killed?" Jack
inquired eagerly, but the General refused to be specific.

"I prefer not to think. It's not a pleasant recollection. When the
world is a little older, let us hope we shall find some better way of
settling a quarrel than seeing who can kill off the most men. What are
you going to be when you are a man, Mr Jack? Going in for a
profession?"

Jack's face fell. For personal questions, especially questions
referring to his studies, he had a strong distaste. He wriggled on his
chair, and mumbled between his lips--

"Trying for a scholarship. Half fees for the next three years. If I
get it father will send me on to Cambridge. He wants me to be a doctor,
and help him in the practice when he gets old."

"And you?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"I'd like to be a surgeon. It would be fine patching people up, setting
their bones, and trying things no one had dared to do before; but I
couldn't stand driving round every day to look after their wretched
colds, and vaccinate the babies. I'd like to be an army doctor best of
all."

"Humph! Would you! Much you know about it. I fancy you'd soon be
thankful to take on the babies in exchange. Well, I've only one piece
of advice to give you, my boy: never be persuaded to take up a career
into which you cannot throw your whole heart and soul. You are
responsible for your life's work, and will have to account for it some
day. Don't make things harder by drifting into uncongenial
surroundings. You look to me like a young fellow who might drift. Too
easy-going by half!"

Jack flushed uncomfortably. He hated being criticised, especially when
the criticism was true, as conscience proclaimed the present indictment
to be. There came to him every now and then moments of illumination,
when, as if a flashlight was suddenly played over the future, he
realised that he would soon be a man, with a man's duties and
responsibilities to himself and to others, and that these years of
preparation were his training-ground for the fight, concerning the
spending of which he would either rejoice or sorrow all his life long.
At such moments the blood tingled in his veins, and he felt strong to do
all things, and deny himself all things, if only the goal could be
reached; but the vision soon faded, and he relapsed once more into
careless, happy-go-lucky ways, caring more for a "lark" tha