As he dropped my mother’s hand, she bent her head, and her veil sank down, while the General’s eyes fell upon me, and the transformation was comic.
“Here,” he whispered to my uncle, as I looked from one to the other, and saw the Doctor smiling blandly. “This—this boy—not—Frank Burr’s—”
“Yes,” said my uncle, nodding to me. “Pupil here. Send him into the service by and by.”
“Bless my soul!—Oh dear me!—Here—I—that is—” stammered the General, looking from one to the other, till his eyes lit on Bob Hopley, when he flushed up angrily.
“How dare you, sir! How dare you stand there, with that rabbit and that wretched ferret! Don’t you see that there are ladies present, sir. ’Tention! Put them away. Dress!”
“Here, stop,” said my uncle sharply, as he looked round, “We have interrupted some business.”
“No, no, no, no, my dear boy!—nothing, nothing!” cried the General. “Mere trifle.”
“Trifle, eh?” said my uncle, drawing himself up, and looking the fierce colonel of dragoons. “Frank!”
“Yes, uncle,” I said shrinkingly.
“You are in some scrape.”