“And you might have been an officer,” said the lieutenant, shaking his head at Dick sadly, while all the blood in the lad’s body seemed to run to his heart.
“I—I beg your pardon, sir,” faltered Dick, as he began to think that he would have to get away again, and then recalled the fact that he could not without being looked upon as a deserter.
“I said ‘And you might have been an officer.’”
“Yes,” said Dick bitterly, and turning and speaking as he felt that he was driven to bay.
“I’m glad you feel it,” said the lieutenant, letting himself sink down into a lounge.
“I do, sir—bitterly,” replied Dick.
“If I were not as patient as a lamb, I should have kicked him out of the place a year ago. Of course, it didn’t matter before you, but it might have been the colonel or the major; and, though there is a way out through my bedroom, that blundering ass must bring my boots and clothes through my sitting-room!”
Dick felt as if he had been respited after condemnation, and began to breathe freely.
“You heard him run his head against the door, of course?”
“Yes, sir.”