“I believe your mangled remains were carried off the barrack-square,” said Jim, with a twinkle. “I expect I should have been one of the fatigue-part, only that was the day I was improperly dressed!”
“What, you didn’t come on parade in a bath-towel, did you?” his father asked.
“No, but I had a shoulder-strap undone—it’s nearly as bad, isn’t it, sir?” Jim grinned at Major Hunt.
“If I could remember the barrack-square frown, at the moment, I would assume it,” said that officer, laughing. “Never mind, I’ll deal with you both when we all get back.”
“You haven’t told me about the family,” Norah persisted. “The family you are strict with, I mean,” she added kindly.
“You have no more respect for a field-officer than your brother has,” said he.
“Whisper!” said Mrs. Hunt. “He was only a subaltern himself before the war!”
Her husband eyed her severely.
“You’ll get put under arrest if you make statements liable to excite indiscipline among the troops!” he said. “Don’t listen to her, Miss Linton, and I’ll tell you about the family she spoils. There’s Geoffrey, who is six, and Alison, who’s five—at least I think she’s five, isn’t she, Stella?”
“Much you know of your babies!” said his wife, with a fine scorn. “Alison won’t be five for two months.”