‘He won the battle, that’s all I know,’ said Victoria. ‘He told me so. I believe they called him “Curly” in the mess, because they were jealous of his hair,’ she added, blushing to find herself forced into these particulars, but determined to have him recognised.
‘Curly,’ mused the Captain, doing his very best—‘can’t say I know the name.’
‘He wore a dirk to fight with,’ said Victoria.
‘They all wear dirks,’ returned the Captain.
‘His laugh was so pleasant!’ She was repeating herself beyond question, but, perhaps, it was only to give the Captain one more chance.
‘No doubt, no doubt!’
‘Yet some liked his smile better.’
‘Some like one thing, some another,’ said the Captain—feebly, I thought, but he was hard pressed.
‘I suppose they all wear buttons like this?’ she said, producing the uncouth ornament from her neck.
‘Yes, one middy’s button’s like another middy’s button, you know; that’s the worst of it,’ said the Captain; ‘and it’s just the same with their dirks and their heads of hair. They seem to turn all the young dogs out of one mould. I think they ought to be stamped for identification.’