which are filed for future reference cases where brilliant men have
failed and unlikely ones have covered themselves with sudden and
transient glory.

There had been a review of the troops that had taken part in a short
and satisfactory expedition of which, by what is usually called a lucky
chance, White found himself the hero. He was not of the material of
which heroes are made; but that did not matter. The world will take a
man and make a hero of him without pausing to inquire of what stuff he
may be. Nay, more, it will take a man's name and glorify it without so
much as inquiring to what manner of person the name belongs.

Tony Cornish, who went everywhere and saw everything, was of course
present at the review, and knew all the best people there. He passed
from carriage to carriage in his smart way, saying the right thing to
the right people in the right words, failing to see the wrong people
quite in the best manner, and conscious of the fact that none could
surpass him. Then suddenly, roused to a higher manhood by the tramp of
steady feet, by the sight of his lifelong friend White riding at the
head of his tanned warriors, this social success forgot himself. He
waved his silk hat and shouted himself hoarse, as did the honest
plumber at his side.

"That's better work than yours nor mine, mister," said the plumber,
when the troops were gone; and Tony admitted, with his ready smile,
that it was so. A few minutes later Tony found Major White solemnly
staring at a small crowd, which as solemnly stared back at him, on the
pavement in front of the Horse Guards.

"Here, I have a cab waiting for me," he had said; and White followed