“I know,” cried Smith; “that we were always going out.”
“That’s it exactly.”
“And he won’t let us go?” I said in a disappointed tone.
“Who says so?” cried Barkins, changing his manner. “The old chap was in splendid fettle, and he smiled,—now, now, don’t both of you be so jolly full of doubts. On my honour as an officer and a gentleman, he smiled and clapped me on the shoulder.”
“Yes, my lad, of course,” he said. “We shall be off again soon, and then it will be all work and no play again, and we mustn’t make Jack a dull boy, must we?”
“He’s going off his head,” said Smith.
“Let him go, then,” I cried, “if it makes him like this.”
“Don’t chatter so, Gnat,” cried Smith. “I say, did he really say we might go?”
“Yes; and that we ought to start at once before the day grew hotter, and that we were to take great care of ourselves.”
“Hurra!”