“To-morrow, sir,” said Dick; and he went back toward his quarters, wondering why the lieutenant wanted to play those two old-fashioned airs.
“Surely he does not want to serenade someone.”
Dick laughed quite cheerily as he thought of the lieutenant’s handsome face, and the idea tickled him for the moment; but the next moment he sighed and felt angry with himself for his mirthful display, and forgot the lieutenant’s lessons till the next day.
Chapter Nineteen.
The Night of the Serenade.
Those lessons given to the lieutenant were the plus to the minus of Dick Smithson’s existence, for the young officer grew daily more friendly and confidential. He chatted about his brother-officers and the dinner parties to which he was invited, rapidly forgetting the gap between them in their military status so long as they were alone, and insisted upon paying liberally for each lesson as it was given.
This Dick felt at first disposed to resent, but the lieutenant looked at him with so much surprise that he ended by taking his professional fee, and no more was ever said upon that point.
One day there was a scented note upon the table; another day, in a bashful, girlish way, which accorded strangely with the young officer’s great, manly aspect, there was a hint let fall; and before long Dick smiled to himself as he felt certain that he had been right in his guess as to the purpose for which the lessons were being taken.