“What a pity! You could have said something to this stolid gentleman on my right. He seems to think I am a waiter.”
“I thought he was very rude several times.”
“Well, yes, I suppose we must call it rude. The poor old colonel yonder is in misery; he does hardly anything but wipe his forehead. Does not young Forbes speak German?”
“No, he hates it,” said Frank hastily.
“Enough to make him,” muttered the captain. “But never mind; you must both come and dine with us another time, when we are all Englishmen present. This is a dreary business; but we must make the best of it.”
He turned to say something courteous to the heavy, silent officer on his right, but it was coldly received, and after a few words the German turned to converse with one of his fellow-countrymen, others joined in, and the colonel looked more troubled and chagrined than ever.
The dinner went slowly on; and at last, with the conversation principally carried on by the German guests, who were on more than one occasion almost insolent to their entertainers, the dessert was commenced, several of the officers drawing their chairs closer, and a young ensign, who looked very little older than Frank, whispered to him:
“I heard your father say that you were coming into the army.”
“Yes, I hope to,” replied the lad.
“Then you set to at once to study German. We shall be having everything German soon.”