He desisted immediately at their entrance and stood smartly at attention. His eye was badly swollen and discoloured, he looked wretchedly ill, but he managed to smile at Saltash, who took him by the shoulder and made him face the light.
"What are you doing in here, you—scaramouch? Didn't I tell you to lie still? Here he is, Larpent! What do you think of him? A poor sort of specimen, eh?"
"What's his name?" said Larpent.
"Toby Barnes, sir," supplied the boy promptly.
"And there's nothing under the sun he can't do except drive cars," put in
Saltash, "and obey orders."
Toby winced a little. "I'm sorry, sir. Only wanted to be useful, sir.
I'll go back to bed if you say so."
"What do you say, Captain?" said Saltash.
Larpent bent and looked closely at the injured eye. "The sooner the better," he said after a brief examination. "Stay in bed for a week, and then I'll look at you again!"
"Oh, not a week!" exclaimed Toby, aghast, and then clapped a hand to his mouth and was silent.
But his look implored Saltash who laughed and pinched the shoulder under his hand. "All right. We'll see how you get on. If we meet any weather you'll probably be only too thankful to stay there."