extravagant lad.

"His letter implies it," he agreed and then pulled himself up. Gerald was
clever and no doubt meant to divert his thoughts. "After all, this
doesn't matter," he went on. "I'll pay these bills, but if you get into
debt at Woolwich, you had better not come home. I have enough trouble
about money, and your allowance is going to be a strain. There's another
thing: Carter, who hasn't had your advantages, got in as a prize cadet."

Gerald smiled. "He hasn't got his commission. Old Harry means well, but
he's not our sort, and these plodding, cramming fellows seldom make good
officers."

"An officer must pay his mess bills, whether he's good or bad," Osborn
rejoined. "If you go into the Horse Artillery, there won't be much money
left when you have settled yours, so it might be prudent to begin some
self-denial now. Anyhow, if you get into debt again, you know the
consequences."

He raised his hand in dismissal and walked to the window when the lad
went out. He had not taken the line he meant to take, but Gerald
often, so to speak, eluded him. The lad had a way of hinting that they
understood one another and Osborn vaguely suspected that he worked
upon his prejudices; but he was a sportsman. He had pluck and knew
what the Osborn traditions demanded. In fact, Gerald might go far, if
he went straight.

Then Osborn thought he needed a drink, and after ringing a bell he sat
down by the window with the tray and glass a servant brought. It was
significant that he had given no order; the servants knew what the bell