I suppose my replies were satisfactory, all being on technical matters connected with field-gunnery, but what it all meant, unless I was to be promoted, I could not tell.
At last the officer who seemed to be the head, turned to me.
“Look here, Lieutenant Vincent,” he said; “this sharp examination is due to the fact that some pressure has been brought to bear, to have you transferred to the horse artillery.”
I turned scarlet with excitement. “Well, sir, we naturally resent this, as we are proud of our horse service, and do not want some lout with interest to back him, foisted upon us. It would be degrading, but I tell you frankly that we are favourably impressed.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
“We have carefully gone into your antecedents. We find that you are the son of a distinguished officer in the Queen’s service; that your career at Brandscombe was excellent, and we learn nothing but good of you in connection with your year’s work here.”
I bowed.
“Of course, we push you forward reluctantly, for it is a great honour to such a youth as you are. Why, you will be the youngest officer in the horse artillery.”
“I am young, sir,” I said, humbly, but with my heart beating fast.
“And there is another thing before this is settled. What about riding?”