"You needn't trouble yourself. If this is the custom, go ahead. I am ready."
"Stand as I do, if you please—heels on the same line, feet turned out equally, knees straight."
Richard observed all these instructions, and being a very tractable scholar, he was soon master of the positions.
"Eyes—right!" continued Nevers, explaining the meaning of the order. "Front."
There were three other boys, who had not yet been supplied with uniforms, having come to the Institute a few days before. These also were placed in Nevers's care, and he began to drill them in the facings.
"Attention—squad," said the drill master, explaining what he meant, and going through with the next movement. "Right—face."
Richard did not come to time, and the sergeant repeated his instructions, and gave the order again; but it was done no better than the first time.
"Move quicker, Grant. How long will it take you to turn on your left heel? Now, try again. Right—face!"
The young gentleman from Woodville did not like the style of the drill master's remarks. Though he had been scrupulously polite in all he had said, up to the point of Richard's failure to obey the order with promptness, there was something in his tone and manner that was very offensive to him. Nevers seemed to feel that he was armed with authority, and he intended to make the new comer feel it; but Richard took his own time, and after they had tried half a dozen times, he could not "right face" till after the others had completed the movement.
"How long will it take you to turn on your heel, Grant?" said Nevers, sharply, when his patience had been sorely tried.