“Please, can I speak to you on business, Master Roy?”

“Goody!  What a long face!” exclaimed Dudley, pulling down his own in imitation of Rob’s, and thereby causing a fresh peal of laughter from Roy.  “Have you been a naughty boy, Rob, and has old Hal been thrashing you?  Have you been skylarking on the top of the greenhouse, and smashed through on Hal’s pate?”

“I should like to speak to Master Roy, alone,” said Rob, a little wistfully; in no way disturbed by Dudley’s teasing.

“Oh, it’s one of your secrets again.  I’ll be off, Roy, I want to see old Principle!”

And Dudley dashed out of the room, whilst Rob came nearer and began his “business.”

“Master Roy, I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and Miss Bertram asked me the other day if I’d like any other job for the winter as there’s hardly enough work for me in the garden now.  And yesterday I saw a chap in the village I used to know.  He’s a recruiting sergeant for the ——­shire regiment, and he wants me to enlist straight away.  I wouldn’t have given it a thought only what you said about serving the Queen has stuck to me, and it does seem a chance, and somehow that song has been in my head ever since I heard Miss Bertram sing it.  I’d like to be in a regiment.”

Rob paused for breath, and Roy’s eyes were wide open with wonder and astonishment.

“But, Rob, you aren’t old enough to be a soldier yet!”

“I’m just the age—­they take them at eighteen, and I was that the other day, only I don’t look it.”

“But you’re going to be my servant.  I couldn’t let you go.”

Rob’s face fell.

“I thought I could have seven years—­or even twelve years would hardly find you ready to take up your property.  And then I’d come back to you and never leave you again!”

“But I want you with me now—­always”—­said Roy, in a distressed tone; “I couldn’t do without you all that time, and it’s horrid of you to want to get away from here, I think.”

“All right, Master Roy, I won’t go—­I’ll get a job in the village that will keep me close at hand.”

Rob tried to speak cheerfully, and after waiting a minute to see if Roy would say any more, he left the room quietly; all the light having died out of his honest grey eyes.

Roy watched the antics of his mice in the firelight, but his thoughts were far away from them.  At last he opened the door and made his way up to his grandmother’s room to have his usual chat with her before tea.

“Granny, if a person you like will do anything you like, ought you to make that person do what you like instead of what they like?”

“It sounds like a riddle,” said Mrs. Bertram, with a smile.  “I won’t ask who the person is, the question is whether you like that person or yourself best.  Which do you?”

Roy did not answer for a minute, then he hung his head.

“I’m afraid I like myself best.”