I stared at him in surprise, for I had been working under my military tutor always troubled by the impression that I was the most troublesome pupil he had, and that I was getting on worse than any fellow there.
“I mean it, boy,” he said, smiling and taking another tiny pinch of snuff. “Well, Vincent, my lad, I congratulate you. An hour ago you were my student and pupil; this despatch tells me that you are now my brother-officer. So good speed to you, and God bless you!”
His eyes looked a little moist as he shook hands with me warmly, and, though my own eyes felt a little misty from emotion, a cloud seemed to pass from them, and I began to realise that I had been fancying all kinds of things which were not true.
“Sit down, my dear lad, and let’s have a bit of a chat,” continued the general. “This is a short notice.”
“Short, sir?” I said wonderingly.
“Oh yes; very. You are to go out in the Jumna on the twenty-ninth. There’s just three weeks for preparation and the good-byes.”
“So soon, sir?” I cried excitedly.
“Yes, so soon. There’s a Captain Brace going out in charge of a draft of men from Warley—recruits, of course. You go under his charge; so you will have to be brisk in ordering your outfit.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I must write to my father to-day about money.”
“By all means,” said the general, smiling; and I saw what a stupid thing I had said. “You sail in three weeks, long before your father could get your letter, eh?”