“I don’t know, Jerry,” said Dick, dreamily, for he was again thinking of his own troubles.
“He said I’d better enlist, and then he could have me as his servant again.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well, sir, it’s ’bout the last thing I should ever ha’ thought o’ doing, but it seemed all right. Officer’s servant wouldn’t be bad, and there’d sure to be some perks.”
“Some what?”
“Perks, sir—perkisites: old boots and shoes and things. So I ’listed six months ago, and here have I, Jeremiah Brigley, been barked at and drilled till I could stand on my head stiff and go through it all.”
“Yes, you would have to be drilled,” said Dick, thoughtfully; “and how do you get on as his servant?”
“Get on, sir? As his servant, sir? Why, he on’y laughed at me, and told me he’d got somebody else; and when I turned rusty, and told him he was no gent, he reported me and had me punished. But I wasn’t done, then; for, as soon as I was out, I waits my chance, and then I says to him, ‘You look out,’ I says, ‘and mind I don’t make it warm for you.’”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, go and tell his colonel, sir, all about his borrowing of old Simpson, the tailor, and throwing the credit about that there cheque on to you. For it was a reg’lar swindle, sir; you didn’t get none of that money, as I know. Ah, you should have seen how small he was then! Why, he was quite humble to me, and said it was all a mistake, and, as soon as he could, he’d get me for his servant. But he won’t, and a good job for him and me, too, S’Richard, sir.”