“Of course, my dear boy—of course,” said the doctor, and they went out together, to be closely followed by Jerry, who reached the staircase first, and sprung up to light candles, though they were hardly necessary then.
“Why, colonel, he was like a lamb with you,” said the major. “Who’d have thought it of Adonis!”
“Yes, he was like a lamb with me, and I always thought it of him,” said the colonel, quietly. “We all laugh at and chaff him, but I should not like to be the man who had done him a wrong.”
“Nor the fellow who had tried to bayonet him when his blood was up?”
“No,” said the colonel quickly. “Now, gentlemen, bed for me. I don’t think this old town will ever forget our ball.”
He nodded, and left the mess-room, to go across the yard.
“Why, that’s not the way to his quarters,” said one of the officers, as he followed his chief with his eyes toward the shadowy building in which a faint light or two could be seen burning.
“No,” said another. “I know: he’s gone across to the infirmary.”
“Is Frayne there?”
“No,” said the major, “he’s at Lindon’s quarters. Chief’s gone to see how little Smithson is. Let’s—no, we’ll drink his health after dinner this evening. Gentlemen, I’m for bed, or the sun will be up first.”