The Doctor was perfectly agreeable; and when they were going, I had the pleasure—for it was a pleasure—of taking them down to Lomax’s little, neatly-kept place, where the old sergeant stood ready to draw himself up and salute, with his eyes lighting up, and a proud look of satisfaction in his hard face.
My uncle took him aside, and they remained talking together, while my mother walked up and down with me, holding my hand through her arm, and eagerly whispering her hopes—that I would be very careful, that I would not run into any danger with the riding, and, above all, mind not to do anything my uncle would not like.
Of course I promised with the full intention of performing, and soon after my uncle marched back with Lomax—they did not seem to walk. Everything had apparently gone off satisfactorily, and after plenty of advice from my uncle, he handed my mother into the carriage, followed and they were driven off.
I stood watching the carriage till it was out of sight, and then turned to Lomax, who was standing as upright as if he were on parade, till he caught my eye, and then he gave himself a jerk, thrust one hand into his pocket, and gave the place a slap.
“You’re a lucky one,” he said, “to have an uncle like that, sir. Hah! there’s nothing like a soldier.”
“How am I lucky?” I said rather sourly, for I was low-spirited from the parting I had just gone through.
“Lucky to have a fine old officer like that to want me to make a man of you, and teach you everything you ought to know to become an officer and a gentleman.”
“Oh, bother!” I said. “Look here, Lomax; you’re to teach me riding. Can you?”
“Can I?” he said, with a little laugh; “wait till the horse comes round, and I’ll show you, my boy.”
“I can ride, you know,” I said; “but not military fashion.”