“It is very kind of you, sir.”
“Well, it’s your way, Smithson. Never had lessons in music before without the fellow I took them of trying to make all the money he could out of me, bothering me to buy pieces of music, or instruments, or something. Well, let’s begin. But one moment, Smithson; you really are keeping this a profound secret—I mean about the serenade?”
“I wish you would have a better opinion of me, sir,” said Dick.
“I couldn’t—I couldn’t, really, Smithson,” cried the lieutenant; “but the fact is, I am so nervous about it. If it were known in the regiment, I should never hear the last of it.”
“It will not be known through me, sir,” said Dick, quietly, as he arranged a couple of pieces of music on the stands.
“Of course, it will not, Smithson,” cried the lieutenant, rather warmly. “You see, I’m afraid I’m rather weak, and the fellows like to chaff me. I don’t mind much; but I can’t help wishing Nature had made me less good-looking and given me some more brains.”
Dick glanced at the fine, handsome fellow, and the lieutenant caught his eye.
“Ah! now you’re going to laugh at me because I talked about being good-looking.”
“Why should I?” said Dick, honestly. “You are the best-looking fellow—I beg pardon, sir, the best-looking officer—in the regiment.”
“I am,” said the lieutenant, frankly, “and the biggest and strongest, as I’ve often proved; but what’s the good of that, Smithson, when you’re the greatest duffer? The colonel and the major both like me.”