Very little was said during the progress of the meal. The captain had a vague load on his mind, Comethup a very real one. The captain had been pacing about his room for an hour past, putting the case as clearly before himself as he could; telling himself, in so many frank and brutal words, that this child was an orphan and penniless; that this strange old woman had enormous wealth, and seemed to have taken a great fancy to the boy. Well, that was as it should be. The boy had his way to make in the world, and a poor old half-pay captain, going slowly but surely toward the end of his earthly journey, was not the man to be able to do much to help any one. The captain's heart ached a little, it is true, and he looked back on the years that had stretched before the coming of this child, and the years that would stretch on after he had gone. Comethup, for his part, tried once or twice to break the matter; he was not very definite in his ideas about it at all yet; he only knew that his aunt practically claimed him, and that she was not likely to remain in the old town with him. He watched the captain nervously, and was quite glad at last when that gentleman opened the matter. "Rather strange lady, your aunt, eh?" he began. "Yes," replied Comethup. "But very kind, sir, I think." "I've no doubt of it," said the captain, heartily. "She certainly appears to be very good-hearted." There was another long pause, and then Comethup said, "She means--means to be very kind to me, sir." "Ah!" The captain nodded, and then added, with what cheerfulness he might: "That's good; that's very good, Comethup." Comethup swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the captain wistfully. "She says--says she's going to look after me." The captain nodded again, but did not speak; he turned his head and looked out of the window at the sky. "I hope--I'm afraid--afraid she may mean me to go away with her." It was out at last, and Comethup waited breathlessly for the captain to speak. But the captain merely stood up and murmured the words of the simple grace which closed each meal, and then walked across to the window. He stood there looking out for a long time, and finally twisted round and spoke a little more sharply than usual, perhaps to hide that which he did not care to show. "Boy, life's a big campaigning ground, where every man is under orders from a general he doesn't even see. Sometimes it's his good luck to march shoulder to shoulder with a friend for a bit, even to fight shoulder to shoulder with him. But an order may come suddenly, and the one marches off to some other place where he is wanted, or where promotion is quicker. Old and young, rich and poor, gentle and simple, we're all under orders, boy, and if at the last, when the fight is done, there's a comrade beside us to close our eyes and hold our hand for the last time--well, the great general has been merciful, that's all."