“Attention!”
Feet and hands moved in unison again. They could hardly hear the bugle, it was so faint.
“Men, I have some appointments to announce,” said the lieutenant, facing the company and taking on an easy conversational tone. “At rest!... You've done good work in the storehouse here, men. I'm glad I have such a willing bunch of men under me. And I certainly hope that we can manage to make as many promotions as possible—as many as possible.”
Fuselli's hands were icy, and his heart was pumping the blood so fast to his ears that he could hardly hear.
“The following privates to private first-class, read the lieutenant in a routine voice: “Grey, Appleton, Williams, Eisenstein, Porter...Eisenstein will be company clerk.... “ Fuselli was almost ready to cry. His name was not on the list. The sergeant's voice came after a long pause, smooth as velvet.
“You forget Fuselli, sir.”
“Oh, so I did,” the lieutenant laughed—a small dry laugh.—“And Fuselli.”
“Gee, I must write Mabe tonight,” Fuselli was saying to himself. “She'll be a proud kid when she gets that letter.”
“Companee dis... missed!”, shouted the sergeant genially.
“O Madermoiselle from Armenteers,
Parley voo?
O Madermoiselle from Armenteers,