"Throwing myself away, sir," cried Pete, with a merry laugh. "Poor old soul, though, she knows no better. Good-bye, sir. I shall see you again. I read your name in the paper the other day about finding a comet, and it made me laugh to think of the old days. Good-day, sir.

I'm going to see Mr Maxted. I find he has been very good to the poor old granny since I've been away."

"And some people say that the army's a bad school," said Mr Maxted that night at dinner, when Uncle Richard and Tom were spending the evening at the Vicarage. "If they would only do for all rough young men what they have done for Pete Warboys, it would be a grand thing. But I always did have hopes of him, eh, Tom?"

"Ah," said Uncle Richard, "it's a long lane that has no turning."

"I say, Master Tom," cried David, who never could see that his young master had grown a man, "did you see Pete Warboys? There: if anybody had took a hoath and swore it, I wouldn't ha' believed there could ha'

been such a change. Here, look at him. Six foot high, and as straight as a harrer. 'Member giving him the stick over the wall?"

"Ah, Mr David!" cried Pete, marching up. "How are the apples?--Beg pardon, Mr Blount, I forgot to say something to you last night."

"Yes; what is it?" said Tom, walking aside with the sergeant.

"There's curious things happen sometimes, sir; more curious than people think for."

"Yes, often in science, Pete," said Tom.

"Dessay, sir; but I mean in every-day life. Your cousin, sir."

"Yes. What about him?" cried Tom eagerly.

"Him that was down here, sir, and I fetched the ladder for to get in yonder."

"Then it was you, Pete?"

"Oh yes, sir; I helped him. I was a nice boy then. You'll hardly believe it, but he's in my company--a soldier. Private R.A."

"My cousin?"

"Yes, sir."

"And is he getting on well?" said Tom.

"Hum! ha!" said the sergeant stiffly. "He gets into trouble too often.

I don't think he'll earn his stripes just yet. Good-morning, sir, and good-bye. But--"

"Yes, Pete."

"Would you mind shaking hands, sir--once?" Tom's hand darted out.

The next minute Pete was swinging along at the steady, firm rate of the British soldier on the march, and Tom Blount went back into the mill, to continue a calculation connected with the stars.

The End.