"Oh, no," he said coolly, "that's not the idea." Then, quickly: "Won't you roll that sleeve of yours up again?"
This with a twinkle?
I bit my lip.
Of course he had caught me out in the very act of "chucking it." This made me all the more furious because I couldn't show it. Who was this Captain Holiday who permeated this district, asking leading questions of land-workers, and, without encouragement, showing them how and how not to do their work? Surely it was hardly any business of his, after all?
In what I meant to be a crushing tone, I asked him:
"Do you wheel many barrows in the Army?"
He replied cheerfully, and in a disarmingly boyish manner:
"It's just the same principle if you're swinging a bayonet. They're both weights. Now, you try again."
And I actually found myself rolling up my sleeves again and—obeying orders!
Yes! I did as I was told by this incredible young man, as I called him inwardly at the time.