e from the War
Office. He showed it to all his friends, old and young. Duff
junior--Caesar's fag--became so excited that he asked Warde for
permission to enlist as a drummer-boy. The School cheered Caesar at four
Bill.

And then came the parting.

Caesar was to join the Headquarters' Staff as soon as possible. He spent
the last hours with John, but his mind, naturally enough, was
concentrated upon his kit. He chattered endlessly of saddlery,
revolvers, sleeping bags, and Zeiss glasses. John packed his
portmanteau. And on the morrow the friends parted at the station without
a word beyond--

"Good-bye, old Jonathan. Wish you were coming."

"Good-bye, Caesar. Good luck!"

And then the shrill whistle, the inexorable rolling of the wheels, the
bright, eager face leaning far out of the window, the waved
handkerchief, the last words: "So long!" and John's reply, "So long!"

John saw the face fade; the wheels of the vanishing train seemed to have
rolled over his heart; the scream of the engine was the scream of
anguish from himself. He left the station and ran to the Tower. There,
after the first indescribable moments, some kindly spirit touched him.
He became whole. But he had ceased to be a boy. Alone upon the tower he
prayed for his friend, prayed fervently that it might be well with him,
now and for ever--Amen.

When he returned to the Manor, however, peace seemed to forsake him. The
horrible gap, ever-widening, between himself and Desmond might, indeed,
be bridged by prayer, but not by the shouts of boys and the turmoil of a
Public School.

During the rest of the term he worked furiously. Desmond was now on the
high seas, whither John followed him at night and on Sundays. Warde,
guessing, perhaps, what was passing in John's heart, talked much of
Desmond, always hopefully. From Warde, John learned that Charles Desmond
had tried to dissuade his favourite son from becoming a soldier.

"He wanted him to go into Parliament," said Warde.

John nodded.

"It was a disappointment. Yes; a great disappointment. Harry would have
made a debater. Yes; yes; a nimble wit, an engaging manner, and the gift
of the gab. And the father would have had him under his own eye."

"But he wanted to go to South Africa from the beginning."

"You wanted to go," said Warde; "your uncle told me so. It was a greater
thing for you, John, to stand aside."

And then John put a question. "Do you think that Harry ought to have
stood aside to