‘Precious little going hungry amongst your set, sir,’ said he.
‘And precious little you know about it, my good fellow,’ Volnay answered, with his sunny laugh. ‘Life isn’t all beer and skittles amongst your officers, let me tell you.’
‘I’d like to change, sir,’ said the malcontent.
‘Would you?’ asked the Captain. ‘Well, I dare say you would. But we all have enough to grumble at, and to spare, if we happen to be built that way. Just expedite that joint, Sergeant.’
‘It will be all the better for another turn or two, sir,’ said Polson. ‘It’s a deadly pity, but there’s no such thing as a hint of crackling. Piggy came along with his bristles on, and we have no shaving tackle.’
‘Who goes there?’ cried a voice in the darkness, two score yards away.
‘Grand rounds,’ said another voice. It was Major de Blacquaire’s, and Polson had not heard it since the day of the Alma, a year and three months ago.
‘Halt, grand rounds, and give the countersign.’
‘Bonnie Dundee.’
‘Pass, grand rounds, and all’s well.’