ul business?'

'Polly,' said Jervase, almost fawning on him, 'I've been a hard man all
my life, and I've lived a hard life for years. I've been a proudish sort
of chap, in my own way, and I've never stooped to ask any man's pardon
twice for the same offence. But it's different between you and me, and
I can't let my own flesh and blood go away from me until I've had a word
of some sort. It's only a word, Polly. You can't deny me! You're a-going
out to the war, Polly, and you might never come back again. And think
of me--think of your poor old father sittin' at home, and sayin' to
himself, "I sent my son away with a broken heart and ashamed of his own
father, and he wouldn't touch my hand before he went to his own death,
and he wouldn't say one forgiving word to me, and I murdered him, and I
broke his heart, and I made him ashamed of his own father." You think of
me, Polly, sittin' at home and thinkin' like that. Maybe for years and
years. We're a long-lived lot, we Jervases, and I should make old bones
in the course of nature, but I couldn't bear it, Polly, I couldn't bear
it. I should have to put an end to it, and if you go away without a
word, it won't be long before I do it.'

The bugles sang out the assembly in the barrack square. Polson both
heard and understood, but his father did neither. Within half an
hour the regiment would be on the march, and already the red-coated,
brass-helmeted men, shining from head to foot and glittering in the
fine array war wears before the exchange of the first blows, were moving
about the open.

'Now look here, Polly,' said Jervase, striving no longer to disguise the
wet eyes and the breaking voice, 'it's take it or leave it. There's your
father's hand. Are you a-going to touch it before he goes away?'

'Don't you think,' asked Polson, 'that you're making it pretty hard for
both of us?'

'Very well,' said Jervase, 'there's no handshake. There's no good-bye
betwixt we two as friends. Perhaps you may come back in a different
humour, Polly. Here's your agent's letter. Are you a-going to take
your commission, and fight in a gentleman's uniform for your Queen
and country, or are you going out to advertise your father's shame by
wearing a private's coat?'

'I shall go as I am,' said Polson.

'Very well,' said John Jervase again. 'There's the father's hand
refused, and there's the commission chucked into the gutter. Now here's
a cheque for a thousand pound as you can cash with Cox &