But although the General laughed, thinking May vastly diverting, he ignored her hint and began to instruct her in the mysteries of Present arms, Right shoulder arms, Order arms, Parade rest—and nobody knows what else, looking at the execution of her movements with the enthusiasm of a veteran. He seemed to be animated with the spirit of a dozen generals, and roared and thundered his commands as though he had been drilling a large squad instead of one weary little girl in borrowed uniform. They had just gone through for the sixth time, Left, reverse—an exceedingly tiresome position as all cadets know—when, without a word of warning to the General, May slipped to the ground and lay there in a motionless heap.
"What is the matter? What is it?" cried the General. "Can't you speak, my boy?"
May did not reply, and the General, now thoroughly alarmed, picked her up and bore her in his arms to Sarah.
"What have you been doing to him?" Sarah demanded, as she took May in her arms.
"I've been instructing him——" began the General.
"You'd better instruct yourself!" Sarah interrupted, indignantly. "Drilling this poor boy till he faints! Phyllis, the smelling salts, and some water."
When May recovered from her swoon the General asked,—
"Why didn't you tell me you were tired?"