“The preliminary examination for Sandhurst begins on the 26th this year,” he explained, “and so far as I can make out I shall romp through it. I am going to take all the subjects in Class I.—mathematics, Latin, French, geometrical drawing, and English composition; I’ll astonish them in the last subject! Plenty of dash and go, eh Peggy,—that’s the style to fetch ’em! In Class II. you can only take two subjects, so I’m going in for chemistry and physics. I rather fancy myself in physics, and if I don’t come out at the head of the list, or precious near the head, it won’t be for want of trying. I have worked like a nigger these last six months; between ourselves I thought I had worked too hard a few days ago; I felt so stupid and dizzy, and my head ached until I could hardly open my eyes. If I had not come away, I believe I should have broken down, but I’m better already, and by Tuesday I shall be as fit as a fiddle. I hope I do well, it would be so jolly to cable out the news to the old pater, and I say, Peg, I don’t mean to leave Sandhurst without bringing home something to keep as a souvenir. At the end of each Christmas term a sword is presented to the cadet who passes out first in the final exam.—‘The Anson Memorial Sword.’ Mariquita!” Arthur smote his breast, and struck a fierce and warlike attitude. “That sword is mine! In the days to come when you are old and grey-headed, you will see that rusty blade hanging over my ancestral hearth, and tell in faltering tones the story of the gallant youth who wrested it from his opponents.” “Ha, ha!” responded Peggy deeply. There was no particular meaning in the exclamation, but it seemed right and fitting in the connection, and had a smack of melodrama which was quite to her taste. “Of course you will be first, Arthur!” she added, “and, oh dear! how proud I shall be when I see you in all your uniform! I am thankful all my men relations are soldiers, they are so much more interesting than civilians. It would break my heart, Arthur, to think of you as a civilian! Of course wars are somewhat disconcerting, but then one always hopes there won’t be wars.” “I don’t,” cried Arthur loudly. “No, no, active serve for me, and plenty of it! ‘Come one, come all, this rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I!’ That’s my motto, and my ambition is the Victoria Cross, and I’ll get that too before I’m done; you see if I don’t! It’s the great ambition of my life, Peg. I lie awake and think of that little iron cross; I go to sleep and dream of it, and see the two words dancing before my eyes in letters of fire, ‘For Valour,’ ‘For Valour,’ ‘For Valour.’ Ah!”—he drew a deep breath of excitement—“I don’t think there is anything in the world I should envy if I could only gain that.”