However, the squire seems to think it is a capital
thing for you. Mr. Wilks thinks so, too, so I suppose I must put up
with it; but Aggie agrees with me, and says it is too bad that she
should never have seen you, once, from the time when she saw you in
that storm.
"She is a dear little girl, and is growing fast. I think she must have
grown quite an inch in the five months you have been away. She sends
her love to you, and says you must take care of yourself, for her
sake."
The squire, in his letter, repeated the news Mrs. Walsham had given.
"You are now an ensign," he said, "and, if you go into any more fights
before your regiment arrives, you must, Mr. Wilks said, get a proper
uniform made for you, and fight as a king's officer. I send you a copy
of the gazette, where you will see your name."
Mr. Wilks's letter was a long one.
"I felt horribly guilty, dear Jim," he said, "when the news came of
Braddock's dreadful defeat. I could hardly look your dear mother in the
face, and, though the kind lady would not, I know, say a word to hurt
my feelings for the world, yet I could see that she regarded me as a
monster, for it was on my advice that, instead of coming home when you
got your discharge, you remained out there and took part in this
unfortunate expedition.
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