"Well, Sergeant?" he enquired. Sergeant Zebedee blinked and coughed. "Sergeant, I—ah—er—O damme, Zeb, what d'ye think of 'em?"
"Sir, being by natur' a man o' few words all I can say is—Zounds!"
"D'ye—d'ye like 'em Zeb?"
"Sir," answered the Sergeant, sloping the shears across his arm and standing at ease, "I've a seen you in scarlet and jacks, I've a seen you in cuirass and buff but—I ain't never a seen you look younger, no, nor better, and that's God's truth amen, your honour."
"I'm glad o' that, Zeb, very!" and the Major glanced full-skirted coat and silk stockings with a kindlier eye. "To speak truth, Zeb, I found 'em a little—er—overpowering at first, as 'twere."
"So they are, sir, as overpowering as ever was!"
"Eh?" said the Major, starting.
"Like the old regiment at Malplaquet, sir, they ain't to be took lightly, nor yet withstood, sir."
"Hum!" said the Major, his eyes travelling up to a patch of fleecy cloud. "And now as regards yourself, Sergeant. Since you refuse to accept more pay——"
"Not a groat, sir! Which ain't to be wondered at when you consider as you've rose me twice since you dropped in for this here fortun'—not a stiver, sir!"