He would show himself to her in his uniform. He had the natural pride in it that might have been expected, and, as he slipped quickly into it and put the dashing cap on his fair hair and stuck his dirk into his belt, he could not help a thrill of boyish vanity. He went straight to his mother’s room, where she stood awaiting him. The first glance at her face struck a chill to his heart. There was a look of pale and quiet determination upon it that was far from encouraging. Nevertheless, George spoke up promptly. “My warrant, mother, is up-stairs, sent me, as my brother wrote you, by Admiral Vernon. And my brother, out of his kindness, had all my outfit made for me in Alexandria. I am to join the _Bellona_ frigate within the month.” “Will you read this letter, my son?” was Madam Washington’s answer, handing him a letter. George took it from her. He recognized the handwriting of his uncle, Joseph Ball, in England. It ran, after the beginning: “‘I understand you are advised and have some thoughts of putting your son George to sea.’” George stopped in surprise, and looked at his mother. “I suppose,” she said, quietly, “that he has heard that your brother Laurence mentioned to me months ago that you wished to join the king’s land or sea service, but my brother’s words are singularly apt now.” George continued to read. “‘I think he had better be put apprentice to a tinker, for a common sailor before the mast has by no means the common liberty of the subject, for they will press him from ship to ship, where he has fifty shillings a month, and make him take twenty-three, and cut and slash and use him like a dog.’” George read this with amazement. “My uncle evidently does not understand that I never had any intention of going to sea as a common sailor,” he said, his face flushing, “and I am astonished that he should think such a thing.” “Read on,” said his mother, quietly. “‘And as to any considerable preferment in the navy, it is not to be expected, as there are so many gaping for it here who have interest, and he has none.’” * * * * * George folded the letter, and handed it back to his mother respectfully. “Forgive me, mother,” said he, “but I think my uncle Joseph a very ignorant man, and especially ignorant of my prospects in life.” “George!” cried his mother, reproachfully. George remained silent. He saw coming an impending conflict, the first of their lives, between his mother and himself. “My brother,” said Madam Washington, after a pause, “is a man of the world. He knows much more than I, a woman who has seen but little of it, and much more than a youth like you, George.” “He does not know better than my brother, who has been the best and kindest of brothers, who thought he was doing me the greatest service in getting me this warrant, and who, at his own expense, prepared me for it.”