u beautifully, and will for ever so long yet--if you don't
grow," added the man, slily.

Marcus turned upon him peevishly.

"Well, I can't help growing, can I?" he cried.

"Oh no, boy; course you can't till you've done growing, and then you
won't grow any more."

"Do you think I don't know that?" snapped out the boy.

"No. Oh no; but what's the matter with your shoulder?"

"Nothing much," said Marcus, sourly. "Those shoulder straps rub that
one, and the back part frets my neck."

"Does it? That's bad; but I'll put that right when you put it on in the
morning. Don't you mind about that: after a bit your skin'll get hard,
and what feels to worry and rub you will be soft as a duck's breast."

"Nonsense! How can bronze and brass get to be soft as feathers, Serge?"

"Oh, I dunno, my lad," replied the old soldier, slowly, "but it do. I
suppose," he added, mockingly, "you get so much glory on your shoulders
that it pads you out and makes your armour fit like wax. It is heavy,
though, at first. Mine worried me the first day, because I hadn't worn
it for years; but it sits lovely now, and I could run and jump and do
anything. Helmet too did feel a bit lumpy; but I felt it more in my
toes than on my head."

"Are you laughing at me, Serge?" cried Marcus, turning upon the man,
sharply.

"Can't you see I'm not, boy? Why, I'm as serious as a centurion with a
new command."

"But do you think I'm going to believe that you felt your heavy helmet
in your toes?"

"Of course I do, boy," said the man, chuckling. "If it's heavy, don't
the weight go right down to the bottom and drive your toes hard to the
very end of your sandals?"

"I didn't think of that, Serge," said the boy, a trifle less irritably.

"S'pose not, boy. You haven't got to the end of everything that there
is to know. Besides, your helmet is light."

"Light?" cried Marcus, bitterly.

"Well, of course it aren't as light as a straw hat as you can tilt off
every time you come into the shade, and let it hang between your
shoulders, same as you do your shield."

"And I suppose that is?" said Marcus, sharply.

"What, as a straw hat, boy? Well, I don't say that," said Serge, drily,
"because it do weigh a tidy bit. But that helmet of yours, as I took
care should be just right for a boy, is too light altogether."

"Bah!" cried Marcus. "Why, it has made my forehead and the back just
behind my ears as sore as sore."

"Pooh! That isn't because