“Isn’t he?”
“Who—the Guide fellow?”
With this embarrassing query Lieutenant Spencer joined the party. Ethel blushed crimson, and for once in her life was at a loss for a remark. Jim chuckled away to himself at his sweetheart’s discomfiture in most brutal fashion.
“That’s right, Spencer,” said he. “Come and back me up, I’m in a minority here.”
Miss Woodburn recovered from her confusion. She had already been introduced by Jim to “that Guide fellow”.
“I really beg your pardon, Lieutenant Spencer. We were indulging in a little inter-regimental chaff and abuse. Captain Russell had dared to applaud you rather than his brother at the final burst. And you don’t understand how fond we all are of ‘The Padre’. He’s the regimental horse.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Miss Woodburn. “I quite understand and sympathize with you. Indeed, I’m glad you’re scorching him, for he needs it. And so he was cheering me in preference to your favourite? He must have most execrable taste.”
“Thank you, Spencer!” Jim hurriedly and joyfully broke in. “Thanks!... Be grateful, Ethel. Don’t you see how very complimentary to you that remark is?”
For a few moments Miss Woodburn struggled with her amusement, but laughter mastered her, and she could not speak before Spencer had partially recovered his senses and recognized what a left-handed compliment he had paid her. The Guides lieutenant was far more confused and nervous now than at any time during the steeple-chase.