East looked up at poor Harry, who was quite taken aback at this change in his prospects, and could only mutter, that he had never turned his mind to “sodgerin.”
“It's just the thing for you,” Tom went on. “You can write and keep accounts, and you'll get on famously. Ask Mr. East if you won't. And don't you fear about matters at home. You'll see that'll all come right. I'll pledge you my word it will, and I'll take care that you shall hear everything that goes on there; and, depend upon it, it's your best chance. You'll be back at Englebourn as a sergeant in no time, and be able to snap your fingers at them all. You'll come with us to Steventon station, and take the night train to London, and then in the morning go to Whitehall, and find Mr. East's sergeant. He'll give you a note to him, and they'll send you on to Chatham, where the regiment is. You think it's the best thing for him, don't you?” said Tom, turning to East.
“Yes; I think you'll do very well if you only keep steady. Here's a note to the sergeant, and I shall be back at Chatham in a day or two myself.”
Harry took the note mechanically; he was quite unable yet to make any resistance.
“And now get something to eat as quick as you can, for we ought to be off. The horses are all right, I suppose?”
“Yes, Master Tom,” said Harry, with an appealing look.
“Where are your coat and waistcoat, Harry?”
“They be in the stable, sir.”
“In the stable! Why, they're all wet, then, still?”
“Oh, 'tis no odds about that, Master Tom.”