“O, to be sure. What about him?”
“Then you mentioned Mr. Outofwork and Mr. Lazyman and Mr. Devilmecare, and another whose name I did not catch.”
“Ah,” I asked, “did they go for soldiers?”
“At present, no, except Harry, for whom I was heartily sorry, he seemed such a nice disappointed lad. But pray who is this Sergeant Goodtale?”
“He is on recruiting service, a very fine, persuasive fellow.”
“But he didn’t seem to press these people or use any arts to entice them: I like him for that. He rather seemed to me to discourage them from enlisting. He might have been sure poor Harry meant it, because, as I take it, he was half-starved, and yet he desired him to wait till the morning.”
“I think,” said I, “his conduct was artful if you examine it with reference to its effect on the others; but he is an extraordinary man, this Sergeant Goodtale—was never known to persuade any one to enlist, I believe.”
“But he seemed to get along very well.”
“Very; I thought he got along very comfortably.”
“Then there was one Lucy Prettyface!”