“I don’t understand you,” I said.
“My words were simple, my lad. Barton ran that horse down because he did not buy it for you. Now, naturally enough, I kept my eye upon you all through the drill, so as to see how you would get on. Your horse behaved admirably; and I should be ready to give you a couple of hundred rupees more for it than it cost; while, for a beginner, I thought you did remarkably well. Here: have some coffee.”
“Well!” I cried, excitedly, “when I was nearly ridden over!”
“You were not nearly ridden over; nothing of the kind.”
“But you heard what the major said.”
“Yes. He shouts pretty sharply sometimes. You were out of your place, of course.”
“Oh yes; I was out of my place, of course,” I said bitterly. “I feel completely disgraced.”
“Go on with your breakfast, boy,” cried Brace, with a good-humoured laugh. “Disgraced! You, a mere calf in just learning your drill. If you had been in the troop for four or five years, and made such a blunder, why, it would have been rather disgraceful; but for you! Why, we are quite proud of the rapid way you are picking up the evolutions.”
“No: you are saying that to comfort me,” I cried bitterly.
“I have a good many faults, Vincent,” he said quietly; “but I don’t think insincerity is one of them. If I say a thing to you, my lad, pleasant or unpleasant, you may take it for granted that I believe it to be honest and true.”