We were silent for a time, and I waited for him to speak, which he did at last, but in a forced, half-bantering way.
“You’ll find it pretty hot, squire,” he said; “and sometimes you’ll wish your uniform back at the tailor’s. It is terribly hot at times.”
“Yes, I’ve heard so,” I said, with my curiosity getting the better of my annoyance. “Tell me something about the country.”
“Eh? About the country? Ah! Of course you, in your young enthusiasm, are full of romantic fancies.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied haughtily.
“Yes, you are,” he said laughing. “All boys going out are. I was. But don’t expect too much, my lad,” he continued coldly. “There are grand and lovely bits of scenery, and times when the place looks too beautiful for earth; but, to balance this, deserts and storms, terrible rains, and dust borne on winds that seem as if they had come from the mouth of a furnace. There are times, too, when the state of the atmosphere affects your nerves, and life seems to be unendurable.”
“It doesn’t sound very cheerful,” I said bitterly.
“No; and I am acting like a wet blanket to you,” he said, with a sad smile. “But you will do your duty, and make friends, and it is not such a bad life after all.”
There was another silence, and I waited in vain for him to speak.
“What regiment are you in, sir?” I said at last, as he stood with his back to me, as if wrapped in thought.