It was a sad day for me when I first went to “Old Browne’s,” but it was a sadder day when I left, for I felt very sore at heart, and it required all my strength of mind to keep up a brave show.
For every one was very kind, and it was like parting from old friends whom I might never see again. The boys were all out in the front drive, where the General’s carriage stood waiting to take me and my mother to meet the London mail coach, and the two gentlemen were with us. For my mother and my uncle had come down to fetch me, and say a few kind words to the Doctor and Mrs Doctor, as well as to visit Sir Hawkhurst. I saw Lomax too, and Mr Rebble and Mr Hasnip, at the door, and it seemed as if there was always some one fresh to shake hands with, the old sergeant shaking mine with both his, and his voice sounded very husky as he said,—
“You won’t forget your drill, sir, nor your balance in the saddle; heels well down, and ride your horse on the curb, mind—don’t forget, and—and—”
The old fellow could get no further. The tears started to his eyes, and to hide his emotion, and to save me from breaking down, he drew himself up stiffly and saluted me.
Lastly, I found that the servants were all outside too, waiting to say good-bye, and I couldn’t go without stepping aside to shake hands with Cook, who uttered a loud sob, snatched me to her, and gave me a sounding kiss.
Then I was back on the steps saying my farewells to the Doctor and his wife, and I felt that I had bade every one now good-bye but Tom Mercer, who was to leave the following day, but, to my intense disappointment, he was missing; and, time pressing, I was at last obliged to climb into the britzska, where my mother, my uncle, and the General were already seated, the word was given, the coachman touched his horses as soon as the groom had climbed to his side, and the boys nearly frightened them into a headlong gallop, as they burst out into a volley of cheers, mingled with, “Good-bye, Burr junior! Good luck to you, soldier!” and amidst the waving of caps from the lads, and handkerchiefs from the door, I stood up in the carriage and roared excitedly,—
“Where’s old Senna?”
I faintly heard the words, “Don’t know,” and I stood looking about wildly, full of bitter disappointment at leaving without seeing him.
I was standing up at the back, where my mother had the other seat, the two old officers being before us, but there was no Tom Mercer, and I was about to sit down, feeling that the poor fellow could not face the farewell, when, at the turn of the road, there on the bank stood Polly Hopley, with a parcel in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other, and beside her, Bob Hopley in his brown velveteens, his gun under his left arm and his hat in his hand.
As we trotted by, the parcel and bouquet fell into the carriage, and I waved my hand back to them till we were out of sight, when I found that my mother was holding the flowers, which had her name on a label like that used with a doctor’s bottle, while the parcel was directed to me.