‘Thanks; I don’t want any tea,’ said John quickly. And, indeed, he did not, for he was in one gigantic ache from head to foot.
The light had been too dim for anybody to notice his amazement; and not knowing where to vent it, the trumpet-major said he was going out for a minute. He hastened to the bakehouse; but David being there, he went to the pantry; but the maid being there, he went to the cart-shed; but a couple of tramps being there, he went behind a row of French beans in the garden, where he let off an ejaculation the most pious that he had uttered that Sabbath day: ‘Heaven! what’s to be done!’
And then he walked wildly about the paths of the dusky garden, where the trickling of the brooks seemed loud by comparison with the stillness around; treading recklessly on the cracking snails that had come forth to feed, and entangling his spurs in the long grass till the rowels were choked with its blades. Presently he heard another person approaching, and his brother’s shape appeared between the stubbard tree and the hedge.
‘O, is it you?’ said the mate.
‘Yes. I am—taking a little air.’
‘She is getting round nicely again; and as I am not wanted indoors just now, I am going into the village to call upon a friend or two I have not been able to speak to as yet.’
John took his brother Bob’s hand. Bob rather wondered why.
‘All right, old boy,’ he said. ‘Going into the village? You’ll be back again, I suppose, before it gets very late?’
‘O yes,’ said Captain Bob cheerfully, and passed out of the garden.
John allowed his eyes to follow his brother till his shape could not be seen, and then he turned and again walked up and down.