The other officers warmly shook hands, Tom Long amongst the number; while, when it came to Bob Roberts’ turn, he said with his eyes sparkling,—
“I say, Mr Murray, I am glad, ’pon my word.” Bob Roberts and Tom Long strolled out together on to the parade ground, crossing it to get under the trees where a group of soldiers and Jacks were standing.
“I say, Tom Long, this is a rum game, isn’t it?” said Bob.
“I call it beastly,” said Tom. “Well, there’s one consolation, young fellow, your nose is out of joint in a certain quarter.”
“No,” said Bob, “it’s yours. I’ve long enough given up my pretentions. Miss Linton and I are the best of friends; but I’m sorry for you.”
“Bother!” said Tom Long. “I wish I hadn’t been such a fool. Why, whatever are they talking about?”
“I always knew he was a gentleman,” said Sergeant Lund, authoritatively. “The way he could write out a despatch was something wonderful, that it was. Ha! I’m sorry he’s gone!”
“Tell you what,” said old Dick, “its about my turn now. What would some of you say if I was to turn out to be a mysterious orphan, and be a skipper or an admiral?”
“That’s quite right, my lads,” said Bob Roberts, sharply. “Old Dick is a mysterious orphan, and if you open his shirt you’ll find he’s marked with a blue mermaid.”
“That’s a true word,” said old Dick, grinning. “But, Master Roberts, sir, don’t you think you might pass your word for us to say a half dollar down there at the canteen? What’s just took place has been hard on our emotions, sir, and the consequence is as we are all werry dry.”