The Major’s eyes twinkled. “Mutually satisfactory state of things, eh? I’m pleased myself. Fact is, I’m so overflowing with good will this morning that I’ve been trying to improve that vagabond.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sam.
“By Jove! but I fancy I made it clear even to his befuddled wits that there is no profit in persistently remaining a social liability. I warned him that if he didn’t mend his ways he’d end in state’s prison. Big, hulking brute like that’s liable, some time, to commit a felony.”
Sam glanced at the retreating Groche. The fellow was big and hulking, and brutish as well—an ugly customer, in short.
“Has he been bothering you again, sir?”
“No,” answered the Major. “I rather anticipated some of his characteristic attentions, but he has quite neglected me. Not that I complain—certainly not! Only I took occasion to point out to him the exceeding unwisdom of again annoying me. Odd, too, how he took the advice. Leered at me, and mumbled, but made no distinct threats. But I must not detain you, young man. You, I infer, are on your way to school?”
“Yes, sir,” said Sam again.
“Then proceed. A moment, though!” The Major’s bushy eyebrows met in a frown, which wholly lacked ferocity. “Your holidays are at hand, I believe. Some day, when you’re at leisure, I should be glad to show you my modest collection of weapons of war and the chase. Ought to interest you, as a budding sportsman with a promising record of large game!”
The Major’s eyes were twinkling once more. Sam blushed hotly.
“I’ll be very glad to come, sir,” he said.