‘Fall out,’ said the adjutant curtly; and Herbert scarcely knew whether to expect praise or blame.
‘Colonel’s orderly. Report yourself at his quarters after parade.’
Here was an honour indeed! To be selected on his first guard-mounting parade, as commanding officer’s orderly—a post which, apart from the privileges it brought of immunity from ‘sentry go’ and a sure night’s rest in bed, every private soldier in the regiment coveted and esteemed—was a compliment which Herbert, and Hanlon also, appreciated to the full.
What befell the young orderly at Colonel Prioleau’s quarters must be reserved for another chapter.
[CHAPTER VII.]
A FRENCH LESSON.
Herbert Larkins presented himself with some trepidation at the commanding officer’s quarters, a house outside, but not far from the barracks. The hall door was wide open, but he did not go in. The man whom he relieved told him ‘to patrol up and down in front of the house—that was all he had to do.’
This he did religiously for half an hour or more, and then he heard himself called from within.
‘Orderly!’ A clear, sweet voice it was; very musical in its intonation and very different from the gruff accents to which he had most recently been accustomed.