“Jerry!” exclaimed Dick, wonderingly.
“Me it is, S’Rich—Dick Smithson,” cried the man, cheerily.
“For goodness’ sake, mind what you are saying.”
“I will, sir—I will, Dick—but it is so hard to break off your old habits.”
“And give me that brush. You must not go on like this.”
“Why not?” cried Jerry; “I often do jobs for my mates. There’s no rules again’ that. Why, I could clean up, polish, and pipe-clay twice as fast as some of ’em.”
“But what brings you here, Jerry?”
“Ah! that’s it, S’Dick Smithson!” cried the man, with a smile of triumph. “It’s all right; I’m taken in exchange.”
“What!”
“They’ve swopped me, somehow. I don’t know; but I don’t belong to the Three-tenth no longer. I’m a Two-fifth, and, what’s more, I’m Lieutenant Lacey’s servant. I’ve been with him two days.”