"Cheer up, my lad," cried the General, as my mother pressed my hand, for
I had sunk down beside her on the seat.
"Of course he will," cried my uncle; "soldiers cheer up directly. I
say, Frank, the Doctor gave you a splendid character, but it wasn't
wanted. Your popularity staggers me."
"But I haven't seen poor old Senna," I cried.
"Seen whom?" said my uncle, laughing.
"Poor old Tom Mercer," I cried, when a hand from the back knocked my cap
over my eyes, and a familiar voice shouted,--
"'Bye, Frankie. Hooray! 'ray! 'ray! 'ray!"
There was Tom Mercer's face looking at us over the hood at the back, for
he had darted out from the hedge as the carriage passed the corner half
a mile from the school, climbed up behind, and was holding on with one
hand as he clutched at me with the other.
Then quickly--nay, more quickly than it has taken me to tell it--he let
go and dropped down into the road, where I could see him standing waving
his cap till a curve hid him from sight; and I once more sank into my
place too low-spirited to think, for my happy school-days were at an
end, and there before me in the dim distance, toward which I was being
hurried fast as two good mares could trot, was the great gateway of a
fresh life, through which lay the road to be followed in my progress to
become a soldier and a man.