And more years rolled on.

One day Celia came to me in great excitement.

"Have you seen this in the paper about promotion?" she said eagerly.

"No; what is it?" I asked. "Are they making more generals?"

"I don't know about generals; it's Second Lieutenants being
Lieutenants."

"You're joking on a very grave subject," I said seriously. "You can't
expect to win the War if you go on like that."

"Well, you read it," she said, handing me the paper. "It's a committee
of Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL'S."

I took the paper with a trembling hand, and read. She was right! If
the paper was to be believed, all Second Lieutenants were to become
Lieutenants after eighteen years' service. At last my chance had come.

"My dear, this is wonderful," I said. "In another fifteen years we
shall be nearly there. You might buy two more stars this afternoon and
practise sewing them on, in order to be ready. You mustn't be taken by
surprise when the actual moment comes."

"But you're a Lieutenant _now_," she said, "if that's true. It says
that 'after eighteen months--'"

I snatched up the paper again. Good Heavens! it was eighteen