Willie Winkie, and, his father abetting, the sacrifice was
accomplished.

Three weeks after the bestowal of his youthful affections on
Lieutenant Brandis--henceforward to be called 'Coppy' for the sake of
brevity--Wee Willie Winkie was destined to behold strange things and
far beyond his comprehension.

Coppy returned his liking with interest. Coppy had let him wear for
five rapturous minutes his own big sword--just as tall as Wee Willie
Winkie. Coppy had promised him a terrier puppy; and Coppy had
permitted him to witness the miraculous operation of shaving. Nay,
more--Coppy had said that even he, Wee Willie Winkie, would rise in
time to the ownership of a box of shiny knives, a silver soap-box,
and a silver-handled 'sputter-brush,' as Wee Willie Winkie called it.
Decidedly, there was no one except his father, who could give or take
away good-conduct badges at pleasure, half so wise, strong, and
valiant as Coppy with the Afghan and Egyptian medals on his breast.
Why, then, should Coppy be guilty of the unmanly weakness of
kissing--vehemently kissing--a 'big girl,' Miss Allardyce to wit? In
the course of a morning ride, Wee Willie Winkie had seen Coppy so
doing, and, like the gentleman he was, had promptly wheeled round and
cantered back to his groom, lest the groom should also see.

Under ordinary circumstances he would have spoken to his father, but
he felt instinctively that this was a matter on which Coppy ought
first to be consulted.

'Coppy,' shouted Wee Willie Winkie, reining up outside that
subaltern's bungalow early one morning--'I want to see you, Coppy!'