“That will do, Pegg. Don’t you forget yourself sir.”
“Beg pardon, sir. I won’t, sir; but there have been times when—”
“That will do.”
“Yes, sir; of course, sir—when I have thought to myself if I had been a officer and a gentleman like you—”
“I said that would do, Pegg.”
“Yes, sir; I heerd you, sir—I’d have punched his fat head, sir.”
“Look here, Peter Pegg; I see you have been having your hair cut again.”
“Yes, sir. It’s so mortal hot, sir. I told Bob Ennery, sir, to cut it to the bone;” and the young fellow smiled very broadly as he passed both hands over the close crop, with an action that suggested the rubbing on of soap.
“Then look here; next time you have it done I should advise you to have a bit taken off the tip of your tongue. It’s too long, Pete; and if I were as strict an officer as the Major says I ought to be, I should report you for want of respect.”
“Not you, sir!”