'Then wouldn't the army like to sit down?' suggested Hilary, forgetting all about her recent proposal.
'Ah, you don't understand,' said General Tinling with some pity. 'It's a military term.'
He was a pale, puffy boy, with reddish hair and freckles, who was evidently fully alive to the dignity of his position.
'Suppose we let military things alone for a little while,' said Hazel. 'We want the army to come and play tennis. You will, won't you, Jack and Guy? and Cis will umpire—she likes it.'
'I don't mind a game,' said Jack.
'I'll play, if you like,' added Guy; but he had forgotten that the General was a bit of a martinet.
'That's nice discipline,' he said. 'I don't know whether you know it; but in some armies you'd be court-martialled for less than that.'
'Well, may we, then?' asked Guy a little impatiently.
'No salute now!' cried his superior. 'I shall never make you fellows smart. Why, at the Haversacks, last Easter, there were half a dozen of us, and we drilled like machines. Of course you mayn't play tennis—this is only a bivouac; and it's over now. Attention! The left wing of the force will occupy the shrubbery; the right will push on and blow up the gate.