He was loitering by the stable door, when he caught sight of a familiar blue jacket, and Frank Pleydall, in company with two lads of his own age, came swaggering up. “So you’re back again, are you, Hugh?” he cried, with a boisterous embrace. “And more freckled than ever, I swear! Is that heavy-heeled horse of yours still unfoundered? Nay, don’t scowl, I mean nothing. But tell me, is Michael Turner’s troop here or in the stable across the way? I want to have a look at its fighting force.” “Wherefore?” Hugh blurted out suspiciously. “Why, I’m to hold Griffith’s cornetcy in it. Such labor as I had to win it, Hugh. Talk to my father night and day, swear I had the strength and discretion of twenty, vow to run away if he gave it not to me, so in the end I secured it of him. Cornet Pleydall; how like you the sound? I told you I’d coax a commission of him.” “You will find Captain Turner a gallant man to serve under,” Hugh said, after a moment. “Good-bye, Frank, I’m weary now. I’ll speak with you to-morrow.” With that he passed out into the street and headed aimlessly, he cared not whither. He had not known till now how sure he had felt of that cornetcy. And that a mere boy like Frank should be preferred over him, because his kinsfolk gave him their countenance! For one instant he almost had it in his heart to wish himself back at Everscombe, still believing in his father, and still confident the world stood ready to receive a man kindly for his own endeavors. Too wretched to think or lay a plan for the future, he plodded up and down the crowded streets till it grew dusk and pitchy dark, when sheer weariness turned him to his quarters; at least Strangwayes was his friend. The thought put more life into his step and made him hurry a little with impatience till he had sought out the baker’s shop, in an upper chamber of which they were to lodge. To his disappointment Dick had not yet come in, so Hugh, without spirit enough to light a candle, sat down on a stool by the fire with his chin in his hands and waited. When he heard Strangwayes’ step outside, he endeavored to force a gay tone and shouted him a greeting, but now he tried to use it his voice broke helplessly. “There, I’ve heard it all, Hugh,” Strangwayes said, and made no movement to get a light; “and I’m thinking Turner takes it as ill as we do. He kept an assenting face to Sir William, of course, but he blurted out to me that the deuce was in it that a little popinjay like Frank must be thrust into our troop.” Hugh forced a desperate laugh that ended in a choke. “And I’ve another piece of news for you,” Strangwayes went on, sitting down beside him. “Now you can take it as good or bad, which you please. I’m not resolved yet myself. You’ll recollect Peyton was shot at Edgehill, and we lost many men from the regiment. Well, they’ve taken another troop that suffered much and used it to fill up the place. And a new captain has been put over it under Sir William.”