He immediately saw that the C.O. had become unusually interested in Humphries.
"Fact is, sir, they've been wondering the same thing at Regina. They've transferred him to us, sir, as a sort of last resort, for you to discipline him."
Hector nodded again. The reformation of 'bad hats' was his specialty.
"I see. Well, perhaps I can manage him."
"I'm certain you can, sir," said Forshaw quickly. "You know, he's clever, in his own way—probably a lot in him. Rather extraordinary humourist. The story goes,"—the Adjutant's face radiated merriment—"that he was a remittance man before he enlisted. You know what that means!"
"So that's the style of fellow he is?" said Hector. "Well, bring him in, in the morning. Mr. Humphries had better make my acquaintance before it's too late."
Hector parted with the Adjutant and walked forward. Mrs. MacFarlane saw him coming. Cranbrook had left his seat on an errand for her. Her heart beating curiously, all eyes upon her, she beckoned Hector to the vacant place. He smiled abstractedly and sat down.
The next number started. It was a comic song of the red-nosed variety. Mrs. MacFarlane hated the song, the comedian, the vulgar crowd that roared at the jokes. She wanted to talk to Hector. But her companion was laughing quite as heartily as the rest of them and she felt obliged to conceal her annoyance and laugh with him.
The number concluded, Hector turned to her.
"You didn't seem to care for that song, Mrs. MacFarlane."