There were times, of course, when a fit of low spirits would set Dick dreaming a little about what might have been, but he soon dismissed thoughts of the past; and in all the months since he had left Mr Draycott's no single scrap of news reached his ears, neither was it sought. "I have no past," he would say to himself, as he forced himself energetically into every duty and every sport encouraged by the colonel. Before long it was a settled thing that he must be one of the best eleven when cricket was in the way, and when the season came round he played as good a part at football. The officers always had a friendly nod for him, and on one occasion the colonel spoke to him after a solo, praising him highly. "But, do you know, Smithson," he said, "I am half-sorry that you are not in the ranks. Music is a delightful thing; but for a young man, like you, a bandsman in a line regiment is only a bandsman, after all. I think you might do better, though I should be sorry for you to leave the band. Think it over, my lad; I should like to see you get on." Dick did think it over, for he was aware, by his clothes, that he had altered greatly since that afternoon when the sergeant looked at him and laughed. "I can't be too short and slight now." But he hesitated. There had never been any need for him to be disenchanted with regard to imaginative pictures of a soldier's life; but, all the same, he could not help, after his months of experience, shrinking from taking to a life in the ranks, with its many monotonous drills. Still, he thought it over, and wondered how long it would be before he rose to corporal, and was then promoted to sergeant and colour-sergeant. Lastly, was there the slightest possibility for a young man like himself to gain a commission? He always came to the same conclusion. He might: but he was far more likely to fail; and he did not know that he wished to be an officer now. In fact, he shuddered at the thoughts which followed. Meanwhile the time went on, with the feeling always upon him that the colonel might ask him whether he had come to any decision. But that officer never spoke; for the simple reason that the words, uttered after dinner, when he was in a good humour, were entirely forgotten, and as if they had never been uttered. One day upon parade, and away upon the Common, when the band was drawn up on one side after playing, during a march past, there was a little scene with one of Dick's friends--the man whose acquaintance he had first made and whose good feeling he still retained. "Here, sergeant," shouted the colonel; and Brumpton doubled up to him, halted, and stood fast, conscious that officers and men were on the grin. "Look here, Brumpton, this really will not do. Confound you, sir! you're making the regiment a laughing-stock." "Very sorry, sir--try to do my duty." "Yes, yes," cried the colonel. "You are a capital sergeant; but look at you this morning!"