"No one would know me now," said the recruit to himself one morning as
he glanced at his face in a piece of looking-glass, for the military
barber had been operating upon his head, and had--as the _Punch_ man
said in the hot weather in allusion to his hair--"cut it to the bone."
For the first time Richard Frayne dressed in his tightly-fitting, stiff
uniform.
"Hallo, Flutey!" said one of the men; "I was looking for you. Got 'em
on, then?"
"Yes," said Dick, smiling. "Do they fit?"
"Oh, yes, pretty tidy. Feel all right?"
"No; I don't think I can get my hand up level with my mouth, and the
tunic feels as if it would split up the back, and the buttons go flying,
the first time I move."
"Oh, that'll be all right. Sure to feel a bit stiff at first. I say,
he has padded you out well in the chest and over the shoulders."
"Yes, far too much."
"Not a bit of it. Makes you look broader-chested and
square-shouldered--more of the man. But, here, Lieutenant Lacey wants
you up at his quarters. Sent that chuckle-headed Joe Todd, his servant,
to fetch you directly."
"What does he want?" cried Dick, aghast with the idea that something had
been found out.
"Go and ask him."
"But I must change first."
"Nonsense! Go as you are. You've got to wear the red now," added the
man, with a grin.
Dick went down into the barrack yard, to find the lieutenant's servant
waiting, and followed him, with the peculiar tremor increasing, and a
cold, dank perspiration breaking out about his temples and in the palms
of his hands.
A few minutes after he was ushered into the handsomely-furnished rooms
which formed the lieutenant's quarters; and he felt a pang shoot through
him for the moment as the piano in one corner, and some music and a
flute upon the table, recalled his own rooms at Draycott's.
But his thoughts were back directly to his troubles, and he felt a kind
of momentary relief on finding that there was no one in the
sitting-room.
"I'll go and tell him you're here," said the man who had fetched him,
and he lifted a curtain, caught his foot against a fold, stumbled, and
drove his head with a crash against the panel of the door beyond. Then,
as the curtain fell behind him, Dick heard, in smothered tones:--
"I had you out of the ranks, Joe Todd, for my servant; I don't want a
battering-ram."
"Beg pardon, sir. Haxident."
"Accident! That's the third time you have done it within a week. Torn
the curtain?"
"No, sir; don't think so. Hurt my head."
"I don't believe it, Joe. A wooden door could not hurt your head! You
may have cracked the panel!"
"No, sir; all right, sir."
"Then take those clothes and brush them again. The trousers have
mud-splashes as high as the knees. And take those boots, too; I can't
wear them like that."
The man came out of the inner room with a portion of his master's
uniform under his arm and a pair of boots, swinging by the tags, one of
which badly-cleaned articles he dropped in trying to open the outer
door, the handle of which Dick turned for him, so that he could pass
out.
As Dick closed the door he was conscious of a rustling behind him, and
he turned smartly, to find himself face to face with the great
lieutenant, gorgeous now in shawl-pattern smoking-trousers and purple
velvet lounging-coat.
"Now for it!" he thought.
"And you might have been an officer," said the lieutenant, shaking his
head at Dick sadly, while all the blood in the lad's body seemed to run
to his heart.
"I--I beg your pardon, sir," faltered Dick, as he began to think that he
would have to get away again, and then recalled the fact that he could
not without being looked upon as a deserter.
"I said `And you might have been an officer.'"
"Yes," said Dick bitterly, and turning and speaking as he felt that he
was driven to bay.
"I'm glad you feel it," said the lieutenant, letting himself sink down
into a lounge.
"I do, sir--bitterly," replied Dick.
"If I were not as patient as a lamb, I should have kicked him out of the
place a year ago. Of course, it didn't matter before you, but it might
have been the colonel or the major; and, though there is a way out
through my bedroom, that blundering ass must bring my boots and clothes
through my sitting-room!"
Dick felt as if he had been respited after condemnation, and began to
breathe freely.
"You heard him run his head against the door, of course?"
"Yes, sir."
"But it wouldn't break; everything else does. He'll ruin me before he
has done.--I have sent for you, Smithson," said the lieutenant, "because
I want you to give me some lessons on the flute."
"Oh, with pleasure, sir," began Dick. "I--I beg your pardon, sir. Of
course, if you wish it."
"I hope it will be with pleasure, Smithson," said the lieutenant,
smiling; "but I'm afraid it will not be; for, between ourselves, I am
very dull over music."
"I used to think I was, sir," said Dick; "but I worked hard till I could
play a bit."
"A bit!" said the lieutenant, smiling. "Ah, well, I won't flatter you.
I should like you to come often and play with me--duets and pieces. The
fact is, Smithson, I want to perform something in--in--in public one
evening--a duet. I have been thinking that I might play the first part
and you the second. What do you think?"
"I think the same as you do, sir," said Dick. "When would you like to
begin?"
"Well, the fact is, Smithson, I am rather pressed for time."
"I will come in at any hour you appoint, sir--that is, if there is no
band practice."
"Oh, the colonel will speak to Wilkins about that, Smithson; but you do
not understand me. I have plenty of time, but I am pressed--anxious to
play a duet or two as soon as possible."
"I understand, sir," said Dick, scanning the handsome face and athletic
mould of the young officer, as the feeling grew upon him that the former
was what some people would call rather mild; "but I am no teacher, would
you like Mr Wilkins to give you some lessons?"
"No, Smithson," said the lieutenant; "that I really should not. I want
you, and I want you to treat all this as confidential."
"But it is sure to be known, sir."
"That you are giving me lessons, yes; but not the style of lesson. When
could you begin?"
Dick glanced at the flute.
"Would you like a lesson now, sir?"
"Yes, exactly; but you have no instrument."
"But you have, sir; and I could help you better without."
"I'm afraid not, Smithson. You see, I should want to hear the air
played at the same time."
"I could run that through as an accompaniment on the piano."
"You could?" cried the lieutenant, staring.
"Well enough, perhaps, for that, sir."
"Then, let's begin at once."
"Have you selected an air, sir?"
"Well--er--yes," faltered the great fellow. "I have--er--chosen two--
duets. Here they are."
He handed the music, and Dick took it up, glancing at each piece in
turn; while the young officer looked warm and uncomfortable, watching
his visitor uneasily.
"`Flow on, thou Shining River;' `Oh, Happy, Happy Fair!'" read Dick.
"Both beautiful melodies;" and, taking the former, he crossed to the
piano and ran through the melody, and then the accompaniment, with
plenty of expression; while the lieutenant sat upon his chair with his
eyes glistening from excitement.
"Now this piece," he cried; and Dick ran through the second.
"Why, Smithson," cried the lieutenant, "you are a wonderful musician!
I--I'm afraid that you will be ready to laugh at me."
"Oh, no, sir. Now, then--I suppose your flute is of the right pitch?"
"I--er--think so."
"Try, sir."
Dick struck the chord of the key in which the piece was set, and the
young officer blew a note of a most uncertain sound.
"Fully a quarter of a tone out, sir," said Dick, thoroughly in earnest
now over his task. "Shall I alter the slide, sir?"
"If you please."
Dick altered the slide again and again till his pupil blew the note in
perfect accord, and then they began, with the air played slowly out of
time--a most feeble performance--right to the end of the strain, when
the lieutenant lowered his flute, and looked at his master with a rather
pitiful, but comically perplexed, expression.
"Horribly bad, isn't it?" he said.
"Well, it might be a good deal better, sir."
"Yes, of course. Will you be good enough to run through it?"
"No, sir; I think it would be better not. I want to encourage you--not
discourage; of course, I could play it more perfectly, but then I have
practised for years."
"Yes; I suppose so."
"But I can make you play that twice as well in a week."
"Do you think so?" cried the lieutenant, eagerly.
"I'm sure of it, sir. Now, again, please. I'll play each note on the
piano, and I want you to blow that note firmly and with a full breath.
Never mind about time, blow each note as if it were a minim, giving a
breath to each."
It was a complete change of position, the officer diligently obeying his
subordinate, and working hard, if with no brilliant effect, till quite a
couple of hours had passed, when he laid down his flute.
"I shall never do it."
Dick smiled.
"You shall do it, sir," he cried. "I'll make you."
"You will, Smithson? Ah! if you only can! When will you come again? I
want to play it so very badly."
"To-morrow, sir," said Dick; and he went back toward his quarters,
wondering why the lieutenant wanted to play those two old-fashioned
airs.
"Surely he does not want to serenade someone."
Dick laughed quite cheerily as he thought of the lieutenant's handsome
face, and the idea tickled him for the moment; but the next moment he
sighed and felt angry with himself for his mirthful display, and forgot
the lieutenant's lessons till the next day.