“Beg y’ pardon, Sir. Can’t we say nothin’ in our own defence, Sir?” shrilled Jakin.
“Hey! What? Are you going to argue with me?” said the Colonel.
“No, Sir,” said Lew. “But if a man come to you, Sir, and said he was going to report you, Sir, for ’aving a bit of a turn-up with a friend, Sir, an’ wanted to get money out o’ you, Sir”—
The Orderly-room exploded in a roar of laughter. “Well?” said the Colonel.
“That was what that measly jarnwar there did, Sir, and ’e’d ’a’ done it, Sir, if we ’adn’t prevented ’im. We didn’t ’it ’im much, Sir. ’E ’adn’t no manner o’ right to interfere with us, Sir. I don’t mind bein’ flogged by the Drum-Major, Sir, nor yet reported by any Corp’ral, but I’m—but I don’t think it’s fair, Sir, for a civilian to come an’ talk over a man in the Army.”
A second shout of laughter shook the Orderly-room, but the Colonel was grave.
“What sort of characters have these boys?” he asked of the Regimental Sergeant-Major.
“Accordin’ to the Bandmaster, Sir,” returned that revered official—the only soul in the regiment whom the boys feared—“they do everything but lie, Sir.”
“Is it like we’d go for that man for fun, Sir?” said Lew, pointing to the plaintiff.
“Oh, admonished,—admonished!” said the Colonel, testily, and when the boys had gone he read the Bazar-Sergeant’s son a lecture on the sin of unprofitable meddling, and gave orders that the Bandmaster should keep the Drums in better discipline.