"Years and years," said Ger mournfully. "They say Kitten 'll read before me, and she's only four." "Um," said the Myjor, "that will never do. We can't have Kitten stealing a march on us that way. This must be seen into. By the way, what's your name?" "Gervais Folaire Ffolliot," Ger answered solemnly, as though he were saying his catechism. "Ffolliot . . . Ffolliot . . . where d'you live?" "Redmarley . . . it's a long way from here." "What are you doing here, then?" "I'm stopping with grannie and grandfather." "And who is grandfather?" "General Grantly," Ger answered promptly, smiling broadly. He always felt that his grandfather was a trump card anywhere, but in Woolwich most of all, "and he's got such a lot of medals, teeny ones, you know, like the big ones. I can read _them_," he added proudly. "I know them all. Grannie taught me." "But why have you come to me? And why on earth do you come in among the wives and children of the Shop servants?" "The door was open," Ger explained, "and I talked to the ear boy, and he said you were most awfully gentle and didn't hurt and hated if you had to--so I knew you were kind, and I'm awfully fond of kind people, so I wanted to see you--you're not cross, are you?" he asked anxiously. "Um," again remarked the Myjor, and stared at Ger thoughtfully. "Well," he said at last, "since you are here, what is it you find so hard about reading?" "It's so muddly," Ger complained, "nasty little letters and all so much alike." "Exactly so," said the Myjor. Then he drew down the blinds. Ger's heart beat fast. Here was an adventure indeed, and when you were once well in for an adventure all sorts of queer things happened. Unprecedented things happened to Ger, but he was never very clear afterwards as to what they were. So many things were "done to him" that he became quite confused. Lights flashed into eyes, lights so brilliant that they quite hurt. Curious spectacles with heavy frames and glasses that took in and out were placed upon his nose, and he was only allowed to use one eye at a time, the other being blotted out by a black disk in the spectacles. At last he looked through with both eyes together at letters on a card, letters that were blacker and clearer than any he had ever seen before . . . and the blinds were drawn up. "Will you please tell me," Ger asked politely, "what is that curious uniform you wear? I don't seem to have seen it before, an' I've seen a great many." The Myjor laughed. "It's my working kit; don't you like it?" "Very much," said Ger, "I think you look like an angel." "Really," said the Myjor. "I haven't met any, so I don't know." "I haven't exactly met any," said Ger, "but I've seen portraits of two, and . . . I know a lot about them."