Having passed almost all her life among military men Mrs.Conway had offered no objections to his wishes, and as several of her father's old friends had promised to use their influence on his behalf, there was little doubt that he would be enabled to procure a commission as soon as he reached the regulation age.
It was not often that the postman called at Mrs.Conway's with letters; for postage was expensive, and the people in those days only wrote when they had something particular to say.

Mrs.Conway had just made breakfast when Ralph came in with a letter in his hand.
"Here is a letter for you, mother; but please don't open it until you have given me my breakfast.

I am very late now, and shall barely have time to get through with it and be there before the gates close." "Your porridge is quite ready for you, Ralph; so if you are late it will be your own fault not mine.

The eggs will be in before you have eaten it.

However, I won't open the letter until you have gone, because you will only waste time by asking questions about it." Ralph began his bread and milk, and Mrs.Conway, stretching out her hand, took the letter he had laid beside his plate, and turning it over glanced at the direction to ascertain from which of her few correspondents it came.