'On what, sir?' asked Florian.
'Your appointment to a second-lieutenancy in your regiment, as the reward of your disinterested bravery at Ginghilovo, and general conduct on all occasions. It is duly notified in the Gazette, and here is the letter of the Adjutant-General.'
Florian's breath was quite taken away by this intelligence. For a few moments he could scarcely realise the truth of what the general, with great kindness and interest of manner, had said to him. He felt like one in a dream, from which he might awaken to disappointment; and the white tents of the camp, the Ityotyosi that flowed beside them, the woods and distant hills, seemed to be careering round him, and it was only when after a little time he felt the firm grasp of Hammersley's hand, and heard the warm and hearty congratulations from him and other officers, that he felt himself now indeed to be one of them.
The first to accord him a 'a salute as Second Lieutenant' (a rank since then abolished) was Tom Tyrrell.
'Let me shake your hand for the last time, sir, as your comrade,' said he.
'Not for the last time, I hope, Tom,' replied Florian, whose thoughts were flashing home to Dulcie, and all she would feel and think and say.
An officer—he was already an officer! As his father—or he whom he had so long deemed his father—was before him. His foot was firmly planted on the ladder now, and with the thought of Dulcie's joy his own redoubled.
'Come to the mess tent,' said Hammersley. 'We must wet the commission and drink the health of the Queen after tiffin.'
For the first time on that auspicious afternoon Florian found himself among his equals, and the kindness with which they welcomed him to their circle made his affectionate and appreciative heart swell. Hammersley was President of the Mess Committee, and was a wonderful strategist in the matter of 'providing grub,' as he said.
A few rough boards that went with the baggage formed the table, and at 'tiffin' that day the menu comprised vegetable soup, a sirloin of beef, an entrée or two, for a wonder, with plenty of brandy-pawnee and 'square-face;' and what the repast lacked in delicacy and splendour was amply made up by the general jollity and good humour that pervaded the board, though, for all they knew, another hour might find them face to face with the enemy.