"Nay, nay; I am not zo weak. I am at one wid General van Santen: you are made for a soldier. ’Tis de work you yourself would have chosen; now ’tis de tide of fortune, dat you dare not miss. I tell you dis; I am made up in my mind, fixed, noding can move me. I salute you, Mynheer Rochester, cornet in de Anspach dragoons." "Indeed, ’tis too good of you, Mynheer." "Not zo. And dis I tell you alzo. You know me, Jan Grootz; I prosper—God prospers me. I regard you as my son: well, ’tis a fader’s pleasure to provide for his son at de beginning of dings, just as ’tis a skipper’s pleasure to zee his ship sail taut and trim. You will have heavy charges: clothes, equipment, a horse to buy. Dose charges, you will permit me, zall be mine. ’Tis but right you should take your place wid de best. I have no kith nor kin, nor like to have; de pay for dragoons is little enough; I add a hundred guilders a month; dat will suffice, dink you?" "But, Mynheer——" "Poof! no buts. I zall do as please me. Now, I am hungry: let us go to de parlour. And dere is your man to tell; he will, no doubt, continue to be your servant." They went from the room, Grootz keeping his hand affectionately on Harry’s shoulder. The table in the parlour was already laid, and in answer to the bell old Gretel appeared with a tureen of soup. "Gretel," said the merchant, "Mynheer Harry is about to leave us." "There! Something inside told me, Mynheer, you would not keep him long." "’Tis not of my own will, Gretel," said Harry at once. "No," added Grootz. "The lad was not eager. He is to be an officer of dragoons." The old woman curtsied and grunted. "A rare exchange!" she said. "To my mind ’tis better to sell corn than to stand up to be shot at, and a deal safer. But I wish you good luck, Mynheer." "Thanks, Gretel, for that and for all your kindness to me. Is Sherry downstairs?" "Ja, Mynheer." "Send him up, if you please. I must tell him the news." "Oh! he will not be pleased. He has a scorn of soldiers, never a good word to say for them. He is in the right." Harry smiled as the privileged old housekeeper hobbled out. Sherebiah soon appeared. "Sherry," said Harry, "I have a thing to tell you. General van Santen has recommended me to the heads of the Dutch army, and I am made an officer of dragoons." "Zooks!" was the man’s astonished exclamation. "We shall still be together, you and I. I shall want a man, of course; and you will not object to the place?" "Well, sir," said Sherebiah slowly, looking down at his boots, "’tis an awk’ard matter for a man o’ peace. ’Tis a line o’ life I ha’ no love for. To be sarvant to a man o’ war is next to bein’ a man o’ war yourself. Not but what I’d be proud to sarve ’ee, Master Harry; no man more; but them as take the sword shall fall by the sword, as the Book says, and I take that for a warnen to have none on ’t." "A lame argument, Sherry."