"My Lord," the Adjutant smiled, "are we unfortunate officers to be left out? Sergeant, have one of her Majesty's gloves placed at every cover in the Regimental Mess, and pass the word for each man to fasten the Queen's favour on his helmet. If she is angry, she shall punish the lot of us--but see that no outsider gets a chance." The boy was beyond surprise by this time, and, like a colt broken of shying, was introduced to the men on duty. He was shown the armoury, mess-room, club-rooms, baths, stables--all that splendid barrack which fronted the palace. Then Sydney took him to the room allotted to his use, and the lad's heart beat high as he put on the undress uniform of the corps. "Do you feel like a savage now?" asked Sydney, laughing. "I don't know how I feel." The lad was changed beyond knowledge, his bronzed skin glowing against the silver, and if his face was made in the rough, his limbs were a matter for boasting. "We're all savages," said Sydney, "all savages, we English, under our skins. Ever seen any fighting, Mr. Browne?" The boy's eyes glistened. "How I wish----" he sighed, "but there's been no big war for thirty years." "When you live on a volcano which hasn't been in eruption for thirty years--look out." "But do you think----" "Do you think," said Sydney, "that we wear this confounded livery for fun? Do you think we've given up smoking, drinking, late hours--and all the rest--from piety? Do you think we drill hours a day for want of other exercise? Wait until you've been a few days in town, and then you'll know." The lad was thinking things which had no words; and when that evening he sat at dinner in the banqueting hall of white marble, surrounded by all the circumstance of Margaret's incomparable court, he could not trust himself to speak. He rose with the rest when the trumpets sounded, he put his lips to his glass when the vice-president cried--"Gentlemen--the Queen!"--but a little tear ran out of his left eye. He saw as through a mist the glittering splendour of the scene, and wanted to shout when the band played the National Anthem. The Captain, Prince Rupert of Gloucester, had come forward to the front of the dais, with the other officers grouped about him. Then one of the trumpeters called a summons. "Attend, Trooper Sydney." "Come on," said Sydney roughly to the lad, and all eyes were upon them as they marched up the hall to the dais. "Sir," said Lord Sydney, "I present Trooper Browne." "Trooper Browne, kneel." The lad bent his knee to the ground, and the Captain spoke again. "I bid you lay your hands in mine." Tremulous, the lad held out his hands until the Captain clasped them in his own, and began indifferently to deliver the great oath based upon Alfred Tennyson's code of Honour: