“If you smoke that big strong cigar you’ll be ill, Mr Long,” said the doctor quietly.
“I’d cut it in half, Long,” said Captain Smithers, “and give the other half to young Roberts.”
“I know what I can smoke, sir,” replied the youth haughtily. “Perhaps you will take one.”
“I! No, thanks. They are too strong for me.” And with what was meant for a very haughty, injured look, Ensign Long strode slowly away.
“Thank you, doctor,” said Major Sandars. “It’s just as well to snub that young gentleman sometimes. He’s a fine young fellow, and will make a splendid officer; but really there are times when I get wondering whether we have changed places, and he is in command.”
“Oh, all boys go through that stage,” said the resident quietly. “He has just arrived at the hair-brushing, make-yourself-look-nice age, and feels at least eight-and-twenty.”
“When he is only eighteen,” said Captain Smithers.
“He is only seventeen, I believe,” said the major, “and the youngest ensign in the service. By the way, Linton, I believe Long has formed a desperate attachment for your daughter.”
“Yes, I had noticed it,” said the resident drily; “and as Ensign Long is seventeen, and my daughter twenty-three, it will be a most suitable match. But he has a rival, I see.”
Captain Smithers started slightly as the major exclaimed,—