Summer or winter made no difference to the great man's cold, which was always with him, and lovingly cherished; but he liked to mark the change between the two seasons by exchanging the long woollen muffler of winter for a silken wrapper in which he swaddled his neck in the summer months.
"Good luck, Ernie," he said in his brief way, his eyes shrewd and sweet behind his pince-nez.
"Keep an eye to Ruth, won't you, sir?" said Ernie in his most confidential manner.
"We'll do our best," replied the other hoarsely. "Here's Mr. Pigott. Quite a jingo these days."
"Who isn't?" the old school-master answered with an attempt at the familiar truculence. "Well, you look like it, Ern." He added almost with admiration. "Quite a changed man."
Then the Colonel joined the little group.
"Coming along sir?" asked Ernie keenly.
"No luck," replied the other gloomily. "Too old at sixty... What about that brother of yours?"
Ern's face darkened.
"Ah, I ain't seen him," he said.