The Queen's Scarlet Part 37

"Where have you been, sir?"

"To Mr Lacey's, sir."

"Ha! I hope I shall find out that this is the truth."

d.i.c.k flushed.

"There is too much lesson-giving, and the band practice is neglected.

Be good enough to recollect, sir, that I have reported your conduct."

"I don't understand you, sir," replied d.i.c.k.

"I allude to that episode, sir, when you absented yourself from the practice without leave. Your conduct is not what it should be, sir.

And recollect this: that a man picked up, as you were, in the street ought to be doubly careful when he has got a lift in life; so have a care, sir--have a care."

"I am sorry I absented myself, sir," began d.i.c.k, but Wilkins raised himself on tiptoe, and interrupted him.

"Say 'stopped away,' sir. Leave 'absented' to your officers. There's too much favouritism in this regiment; but I warn you, sir: have a care--have a care."

He strutted away, arranging the few thin bits of hair about his ears, leaving d.i.c.k looking after him.

"Oh, you stupid little man!" muttered d.i.c.k, who then went to his quarters to think out what he had better do. But, try hard as he would, he could not think it out; for the more he thought, the more it seemed to him that he had completely obliterated himself by his foolish act-- that Sir Richard Frayne was dead to the world and d.i.c.k Smithson reigned in his stead.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

FINDING A LEECH.

d.i.c.k Smithson was busy, a few mornings later, working with his hands as well as his brain. The latter could not succeed in its task; for, the more he thought, the more desperate grew the confusion in his mind; and, by way of relief, he tried hard to dismiss the whole business, but only to find that it would not go.

His hands were more successful; for he had polished his sword, pipe-clayed his belt, gloves, and the little leather pouch which held his music-cards, and now, with a brush ready, he was performing a task which looked like a puzzle, for he was pa.s.sing the gilt b.u.t.tons of his uniform through a hole in a flat stick, and then running them one after another along a slit.

He had heard someone enter the room; but he was too intent upon his work to look up, and he had just picked up the brush to begin polishing the b.u.t.tons, now in a neat row, when a couple of hands were pa.s.sed round him--one taking his jacket and b.u.t.ton-stick, the other the brush, which was briskly applied, accompanied by a loud, hissing noise, such as an ostler makes, to blow away the dust, when grooming a horse.

"Jerry!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, wonderingly.

"Me it is, S'Rich--d.i.c.k Smithson," cried the man, cheerily.

"For goodness' sake, mind what you are saying."

"I will, sir--I will, d.i.c.k--but it is so hard to break off your old habits."

"And give me that brush. You must not go on like this."

"Why not?" cried Jerry; "I often do jobs for my mates. There's no rules again' that. Why, I could clean up, polish, and pipe-clay twice as fast as some of 'em."

"But what brings you here, Jerry?"

"Ah! that's it, S'd.i.c.k Smithson!" cried the man, with a smile of triumph. "It's all right; I'm taken in exchange."

"What!"

"They've swopped me, somehow. I don't know; but I don't belong to the Three-tenth no longer. I'm a Two-fifth, and, what's more, I'm Lieutenant Lacey's servant. I've been with him two days."

"And are you satisfied? Can you get on?"

"Satisfied ain't the word for it. I was never meant to go shouldering arms and making two legs of a long centipede, and crawling about. It's like getting back into real happiness. Waited table last night for the fust time. Didn't you see me?"

"I? No."

"I see you tootling away there on your floot, 'eavenly, but I couldn't catch your eye. 'Sides, I was strange there, and had to mind what I was about, 'tending to my master. It was a real treat!"

"And so you think you'll get on with him?"

"Get on with him! Why, I can do anything I like with him already! My word! they call red herrings sogers, and sogers red herrings, and he is a soft-roed un, and no mistake."

"Lieutenant Lacey is a thorough gentleman, Jerry," cried d.i.c.k, warmly.

"Every inch of him, d.i.c.k Smithson--mind, I'm a calling you that, d.i.c.k, but it's meant respectful--a thorough gent, every inch of him, and there's a good lot on him, too; but he is a bit slack-baked, you know.

Why, if I liked, I could a'most gammon him into anything."

"I trust you will prove as good a servant to him as you were to--"

"Me," d.i.c.k was going to say, but he checked himself.

"You trust me for that, d.i.c.k Smithson, I will. But, really, it's shameful the way he's been neglected. He come and ketched me last night sitting on the floor cross-legged, fine-drawing a hole in his dress-vest, and he burst out a-laughing, good-humoured like.

"'Why, Brigley,' he says, 'I didn't know you were a tailor.'

"'More I am, sir,' I says; 'but a man as pretends to valet a gent, and can't draw up a tear, or put on a b.u.t.ton, ain't worth calling a servant, sir,' I says.

"'I'm afraid my things have been very much neglected,' he says, and then he asked, 'What boots are those in a row?'

"'Some as I found in the closet, sir, all over mould.'

"'But they're not fit to wear, are they?'

"'Why not, sir?' I says. 'Look here, sir, that chap as you've had here ought to be flogged; I never see a gent's fit-out and accoutrements in such a state.'

"'They have been terribly neglected, my man,' he says, 'and I hope you'll put 'em right.'

"'You trust me, sir,' I says, 'and they shall be done proper, but it'll take me weeks yet. Your linen's shameful.'

"'Then I must get some new things.'

"'What for, sir?' I says. 'They're right enough. Leastwise, they will be. You leave 'em to me, sir.'

"'I will, my man,' he says.