“Hullo, shrimp!” he cried. “What! have I caught you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Dick sulkily.
“Of course you don’t. Get out, you wicked young fibster. You have not been inspecting your new plumage—not you! Trying on, and having a good look in the glass, have you?”
“Well, if I have, what then?” said Dick fiercely.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” cried the visitor, after giving a very fair imitation of the challenge of a game-fowl. “Hark at him! Oh, the fierceness of the newly-fledged officer! Don’t call me out, Dick, and shoot me. There, I apologise.”
“I suppose it was quite natural that I should look at the things and see if everything was there.”
“Quite, dear boy, quite. Well, has the snip sent in everything right?”
“I don’t know. I suppose so.”
“Don’t be cross, Dicky. Don’t sing out of tune. Well, do they fit?”
“I don’t know,” said the lad coldly.