“Well, pretty tidy, my lad. You look as if you had been in the wars. Nose is a little bit knocked on one side.”
“Oh, Serge!” cried the boy, showing real excitement now.
“Left eye looks a bit sleepy, too.”
“Serge!”
“Well, you asked me, my lad—and your bottom lip has been cut against your tooth.”
“Oh, what will he say?” cried the boy, wildly.
“I dunno,” growled the old soldier, grimly. “Yes, I do,” and his eyes twinkled with satisfaction and pride in the prowess his young master had displayed.
“What will he say?” cried the boy, anxiously, and as if he placed full confidence in the old servant’s words.
“Say you oughtn’t to have been fighting, but been busy scratting about with your stylus and making marks on that wax.”
“But I was busy, only it was so hot and one couldn’t keep awake; and when I heard those fellows breaking down the vines—”